| Well we haven’t got all night
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| Come on and raise a toast
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| We’re only one time aiming for the sun
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| Thought we’d be grinding all our gears
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| Til we’re giving up the ghost
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| And grieving from the ties that we’d undone
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| I’m still staring at the sky, like at the start
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| With all these heavy anchors on my heart
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| But they don’t suit me, babe, like before
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| They don’t suit me like they did before
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| Always waving flags and waging wars
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| But it don’t suit me like before
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| It don’t suit me like before
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| Well folks like me and you
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| We don’t know how to call a truce
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| And when we can’t lose the fight, we just lose touch
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| So we sit comparing scars
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| Strumming on the stars
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| And leaning on the oldest, closest crutch
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| Don’t let me turn to dust to turn a phrase
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| Could you help me wash these years off of my face?
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| I used to have a prisoner’s point of view
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| Now I only care for being seen by you |