| You look to me for an answer
|
| But I’ve never given
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| And I’ve never given it much thought
|
| And staring at the center of the room
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| I start to build one, but it never feels like my own
|
| I oh I’ve built nothing of my own
|
| All I knew, I’ve never really known
|
| I oh I, need something of my own
|
| Before it’s too late, before my time has come and gone
|
| Have you ever had that feeling
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| When you’re talking to yourself
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| That you’re speaking out of turn?
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| Kind or cruel or cold or vain
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| I start to feel like
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| Like all these people need a name
|
| They curse the sky and praise the rain
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| I thought I knew them
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| I used to call them all the same
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| I oh I’ve got nothing of my own
|
| All I have, it just tends to come and go
|
| I oh I’ve built nothing of my own
|
| All I knew, I’ve never really known
|
| All I knew, I’ve never really known
|
| I oh I, need something of my own
|
| Before it’s too late, before my time has come and gone |