| I can’t believe so much could go so wrong
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| It seems like every door is closed to me
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| I wake every morning resolved to be strong
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| I tell myself I keep good company
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| I can’t believe that this is my life
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| There’s always been someone to shelter me
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| Now I’m out there on the streets without a knife
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| Being told I’m ancient history
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| The doors that close once opened wide
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| I try to take it all in stride
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| And hold my head up to the sky
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| But now they slam right in my face
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| With unseen hands that can’t be traced
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| And leave a bruise that even you cannot erase
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| They say that art’s become an industry
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| And that I’ve been away too long this time
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| They say I’ve taken too much liberty
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| Well what kind of punishment fits that crime?
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| They say success came much too fast
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| I never learned to suffer or to beg
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| Just look at the bruises I’ve amassed
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| I’ve paid my dues now — can we start again?
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| The doors that close once opened wide
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| I try to take it all in stride
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| And think of better times gone by
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| But I’ve heard everyone’s excuse
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| It’s no longer any use
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| I might have been your childhood hero
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| I might have been your native son
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| But I was grounded close to zero
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| Now that rocket ride is done
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| And if I never reach Orion
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| And if I never fly that far
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| Still, there’s no harm in trying
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| To go walking on a star |