| There’s a picture that I found
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| My first car in the falling snow
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| Seems like yesterday I drove down into low tide
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| And Isaac snapped a Polaroid of me pretending I was sinking
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| Pressed against the glass, pleading
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| I misplaced it but I’m looking
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| When we are young
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| If only we could see beyond our fears, where we are free
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| When we are lonely
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| If only we could know that in our stillness we are growing
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| All the portraits we collected
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| While we were running around in the desert
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| We were trying to seem fulfilled
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| To rewrite our New York City narratives
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| But Emily, we were utterly dejected
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| We took turns crying on the passenger side of America
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| Too clouded to be empowered by towering redwoods
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| When did we lose the ancient truths?
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| Is it what we’re born bending our bodies towards?
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| How can we spend our lives searching outside of ourselves
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| For the inner knowledge of our oneness with the world?
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| Shervin, remember when my car finally quit?
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| We’d drag our dirty clothes after dark to Lavanderia and wander Graham Ave
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| Obsessing over singers we love
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| I thought I was so alone but now I know I never was
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| You’ve always been the Jenny to my Watson Twins
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| Can’t land the harmony but we’ll keep singing it
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| No photographic artifact but here is something better than that
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| When we are young
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| If only we could see beyond our fears, where we are free
|
| When we are lonely
|
| If only we could know that in our stillness we are still growing
|
| When we are young
|
| If only we could see beyond our fears, where we are free
|
| When we are lonely
|
| If only we could know that in our stillness we are still growing |