| I just spent a night, cleaning my kitchen
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| Killing time, instead of writting songs
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| Im terrified that even if you listen
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| I wont have anything to say at all
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| Im so sorry if ive ever written
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| A line that sounded trite, but just not true
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| I promise it was never my intetion
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| To act like I know what youre going through
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| See I got a microphone, and im on the radio
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| But that doesn’t mean I know, hopes and fears
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| So I can not assume, I know what to sing for you
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| I can only write the songs, I need to hear
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| I need to hear, I dont need all the answers
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| But questions, are a danger to the truth
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| I need to hear that what im doing matters
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| But im loved, for who I am, for not what I do |