| Infinite moments of calm in our life
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| What a waste
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| Our defining moments fade away
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| It was easy to navigate the wind
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| When everything was cool
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| I’ll know I’m drunk when the truth’s spurting out
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| And our truth is disguised as a joke
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| Like the one about the dying ember
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| (Where the looks are worth a thousand rumours)
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| My voice can be disguised
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| But my face can’t lie
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| There’s no antidote to save me
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| When I’m drunk
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| My failures lie, not in falling down
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| But not getting up
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| All our great achievements put to better use
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| Like the wise man mistaken
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| But the fool, he can often be right
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| I know I’m drunk when the truth’s spurting out
|
| And our truth is disguised as a joke
|
| Like the one about the dying ember
|
| (Where the looks are worth a thousand rumours)
|
| My voice can be disguised
|
| But my face can’t lie
|
| There’s no antidote to save me
|
| When I’m drunk
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| Yeah, my voice can be disguised
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| I’ll break off all contact
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| No signals, so I hope I don’t offend you
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| Even in summer the days are like winter so bland
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| Thoughts do not fear to abandon their
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| People they differ in life not in death
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| So the higher you climb
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| The longer you fall
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| My voice can be disguised
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| But my face can’t lie
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| There’s no signal I can find |