| Well, I looked into a house I once lived in
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| Around the time I first went on my own
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| When the roads were as many as the places I had dreamed of
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| And my friends and I were one
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| Now the distance is done and the search has begun
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| I’ve come to see where my beginnings have gone
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| Oh, the walls and the windows were still standing
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| And the music could be heard at the door
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| Where the people who kindly endured my odd questions
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| Asked if I came very far
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| And when my silence replied they took me inside
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| Where their children sat playing on the floor
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| Well, we spoke of the changes that would find us farther on
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| And it left me so warm and so high
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| But as I stepped back outside to the gray morning sun
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| I heard that highway whisper and sigh
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| Are you ready to fly?
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| And I looked into the faces all passing by
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| It’s an ocean that will never be filled
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| And the house that grows older and finally crumbles
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| That even love cannot rebuild
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| It’s a hotel at best, you’re here as a guest
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| You oughta make yourself at home while you’re waiting for the rest
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| Well, I looked into dream of the millions
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| That one day the search will be through
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| Now here I stand at the edge of my embattled illusions
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| Looking into you
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| The great song traveler passed through here
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| And he opened my eyes to the view
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| And I was among those who called him a prophet
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| And I asked him what was true
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| Until the distance had shown how the road remains alone
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| Now I’m looking in my life for a truth that is my own
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| Well I looked into the sky for my anthem
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| And the words and the music came through
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| But words and music will never touch the beauty that I’ve seen
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| Looking into you — and that’s true |