| If anybody asks what’s new
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| I say, «not much,"and it’s mostly true,
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| But when my stars align with you
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| Then I will write my book.
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| I turn my face from all the rage
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| Playing on a grim, dark stage,
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| But you’ve shown me an open page
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| And I will write my book.
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| I have no time for what inclines
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| Their rhyme or broken reason;
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| The world is ruthless, shrewdly blind,
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| My oath to them is treason…
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| I’d never claim that what I’d heard
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| Was the first wave or the last word,
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| But your heart beneath my hand just stirred
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| And I will write my book.
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| I have no time for what inclines
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| Their crimes on every season;
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| The world is truthless, shrewdly kind,
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| My oath to them is treason…
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| I have no words to turn the tide
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| -Lights go out, and worlds collide-
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| But by your candle hopes abide
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| And there I’ll write my book,
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| By your candle hopes abide
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| And there I’ll write my book. |