| A cold wind against my shoulder
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| Woke me up in the middle of the night
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| An Autumn leaf was scraping against my window
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| Like it was trying hard to get inside
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| And then a ghost that I had met before
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| He kept me up until dawn
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| And everything I thought was right was suddenly all wrong
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| He said, «Your score is looking pretty bad»
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| And then he asked me what it was that I had to show
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| So I went running down a list of things
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| Some were real, but on some of them I lied
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| Because I felt I had to justify each breath
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| That I’d been breathing in this life
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| Then I realized I was playing into someone else’s rules
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| Trying to keep my score up in a game I did not choose
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| Then I looked that ghost straight in the eye
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| And said «You'd better not be coming back by again»
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| And it’s true that I don’t work near as hard
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| As you tell me that I’m supposed to
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| I don’t run as fast as I could
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| But I live just the way I want to
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| And that’s the way I should
|
| October’s leaves were dancing around
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| Like angels dressed in robes of Red and Gold
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| But November’s come and gone now
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| And they’re lying in the gutter out along the road
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| They’re going to make their way out
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| To the ditch or someday to the sea
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| They’ll get to where they’re going
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| Without the help of you or me
|
| And if each life is just a grain of sand
|
| I’m telling you man, this grain of sand is mine |