| Well I drove by the cemetery wondering*
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| Who will write our eulogies?
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| 'Cause I’ve been having some trouble lately
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| Believing god is more than winter whistling in these trees.
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| And I’ve been counting my blessings carefully wondering,
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| Who will come to satisfy this wait?
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| And I’ve been humming Hail Mary’s safely hoping
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| Someone out there is going to save us from this rain.
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| But sunrise, sunset I feel the same.
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| The ins and outs, the hides and seeks
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| Of shaky faith and my modern belief,
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| That for right now there’s nothing that I need
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| Worth writing home pretending I can’t see.
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| And I’ve been wondering, how will you understand
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| why I’ve been falling fast from Heaven’s holy hands?
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| It’s just the centuries of inconsistencies
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| in the way we think that’s wearing me thin.
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| We weren’t born afraid,
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| we were made this way.
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| The ins and outs, the hides and seeks
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| of shaky faith and my modern belief,
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| that for right now there’s nothing that I need
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| worth writing home pretending I can’t see,
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| oh its make believe,
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| and we’re all we need.
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| that its make believe,
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| But the ins and outs, the hides and seeks
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| of shaky faith and my modern belief,
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| that for right now there’s nothing that I need
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| worth writing home, worth writing home.
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| its make believe
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| its make believe |