| Fourth floor,
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| lonely Juanita,
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| sits there staring at the screen,
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| types in can anybody tell me what it all means,
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| tick-tock waitin’for an answer
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| it’s no use and all at once to her suprise,
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| she gets one reply,
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| Until you got love,
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| you know you got nothin',
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| you’re missing that something
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| that’s gonna set you free,
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| until you got love,
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| you’ll always be running,
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| love is that one thing
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| that everybody needs,
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| Sunday, no one’s at the office,
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| just waiting at his fathers desk,
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| workin’trying to fill the shoes that his dad left
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| 'dear son’he finds in a letter:
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| 'please try your best to learn from my mistakes,
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| you know work can wait',
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| Until you got love,
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| you know you got nothin',
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| your missin that something
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| that’s gonna set you free,
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| until you got love,
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| you’ll always be running,
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| love is that one thing
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| that everybody needs,
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| There’s nothing cool in this room,
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| nothing new in what I’m saying,
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| but sometimes the truth is what it is,
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| so why should I apologize for looking for
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| a better way to live, way to live |