| I went to high school with that kid
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| He was even strange back then
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| The type whose eyes don’t leave the floor
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| Blend in with the cement
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| Well, I felt so bad for that kid
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| One day I saw his face turn green
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| And as he tumbled to the floor
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| The thought of reaching out never occurred to me
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| Why don’t we open up
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| Knowing that we all falter?
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| When will we learn
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| To reach out for each other?
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| Well, he lived out on the edge of town
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| And I’m pretty sure he had a brother
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| It seemed that boy could walk for days
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| I suspect to avoid his mother
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| And I always knew he had it bad
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| Tougher than any of us others did
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| Still, I never asked him how he was doing
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| What could I do? |
| I was just a kid
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| Why don’t we open up
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| Knowing that we all falter?
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| When will we learn
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| To reach out for each other?
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| So, now he’s the new town bum
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| He talks to himself and picks up cans all day
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| And when my kids ask me about him
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| What’ll I say? |
| What’ll I say?
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| Why don’t we open up
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| Knowing that we, we all falter?
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| And when will we learn?
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| When will we learn to open up
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| Knowing that we all falter?
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| When will we learn? |
| (When will we learn?)
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| I said, when will we learn?
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| When will we learn
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| To reach out for each other? |