| I recall once on the church steps
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| When I moved to kiss your chest
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| How we paid such close attention
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| To each sweet and stuttered breath
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| I should’ve stopped to paint our picture
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| Captured honest pure affection
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| Just to document the difference between attraction and connection
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| I can see all of my friends and
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| I break into empty buildings
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| When the coast was clear
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| With backpacks full of beer
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| We’d throw our bottles from the rooftops
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| At this city-it looked endless
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| Guess I still don’t see the difference between real purpose and that urgent
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| adolescence
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| And I remember in a basement sharing sweat
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| With all these stranger boys and girls
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| «We'll change the world!"We sang
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| «We'll change the world!"But
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| Nothing seems to change and
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| They say none of them will listen
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| But I still see much more power in that basement than in heartless politicians
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| And if we get beaten by this winter
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| If we get strangled by regret, just
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| Let our love of life and tension
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| Gasp in sweet and stuttered breaths, and
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| Have them lay us in a basement
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| Smash some bottles on the ground, and
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| Say we couldn’t tell the difference between the feeling and the sound
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| Remember not our faulty pieces
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| Remember not our rusted parts
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| It’s not the petty imperfections that define us but
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| The way we hold our hearts
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| And the way we hold our heads
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| I hope they write your names beside mine on my gravestone when I’m dead
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| And when we are dead let our voices carry on
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| To find a better song
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| To find a better song and sing along |