| Between the thunder and the lightning’s flame
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| I knew the storm was just a mile away
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| But it surprised me just the same
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| When it blew my straw house down
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| Now standing in the aftermath
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| With no idea how to build it back
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| I wonder as I wander through the fields of ash
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| Is there hope to carry on?
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| Could this, even this, be made beautiful?
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| Growing up I was told the sun would always rise
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| And I believed because I was a child
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| But now it’s hard to tell the truth from the lies
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| When the child is fast asleep
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| Wake up little boy, I need your faith today
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| I need your innocence to show the way
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| When I’m too tired to trust that love will save the day
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| And I need your eyes to see
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| Even this will be made beautiful
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| Even this will be made beautiful, beautiful
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| I know I shouldn’t worry
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| And I should not be afraid
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| I want to walk across the water
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| I want to rise above the crashing waves
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| But this fear in me is heavy
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| I’m scared it’s going to pull me down
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| So please reach out your hand
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| I don’t want to drown
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| Even this will be made beautiful, beautiful
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| Even this will be made beautiful, beautiful
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| There’s never been a night the morning couldn’t break
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| Or a heart that wasn’t forged in the fires of its own ache
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| What’s left after the storm is left for heaven’s sake
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| For the breaking and remaking of our hearts |