| I’m in snowy Manhattan, December 22
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| Always hoped this would happen
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| But, to tell you the truth
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| I wish I was in Oxford
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| With the boys and a beer
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| But I’m spending Christmas eve alone this year
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| I’ve done Times Square at midnight
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| Went shopping on fifth
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| I crossed snow in New York off of my bucket list
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| But it’s hard to be happy
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| When you’re home and I’m here
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| Spending Christmas eve alone this year
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| And I can’t tell if I lied when I said
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| That this was the best thing for me
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| Being away from my whole family and friends
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| To start half of my days with airport delays
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| And I know that I would’ve died to be here
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| If you asked me eight years ago
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| I’m writing music and selling out shows, I know
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| But I’d make it all disappear
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| To spend Christmas this year at home
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| Back to an empty hotel room
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| At least I can sleep
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| Waking up by myself’s no fairy tale for me
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| And I know it could get worse than a music career
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| But I’m spending Christmas eve alone this year
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| And I can’t tell if I lied when I said
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| That this was the best thing for me
|
| Being away from my whole family and friends
|
| To start half of my days with airport delays
|
| And I know that I would’ve died to be here
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| If you asked me eight years ago
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| 'Cause I’m writing music and selling out shows, I know
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| But I’d make it all disappear
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| To spend Christmas this year at home |