| It was late in the summer and the house was asleep
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| Except for you in the attic under the eaves
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| The windows were open, it was lamplight and stars
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| Lamplight and stars from above
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| You could hear a car passing way down the street
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| A neighbor’s dog barking, and the wind in the trees
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| And you’re the king of your castle and of all you survey
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| At the end of this day that was
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| You thought of your children just down the stairs
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| Your wife sleeping deeply, the quotidian cares
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| Some days it’s easy, some days it’s hard
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| Some days it’s so hard to be loved
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| You look like your old man when he was your age
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| Stepping back from the mirror, more surprised than amazed
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| Same salt at the temples, same faraway eyes
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| A disguise you recognize now
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| You wish he’d been around more when you were a kid
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| You wish he had told you so much more than he did
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| And all these regrets and they’re still handed down
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| From father to son somehow
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| And what doesn’t get lost in the numbing routine
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| What isn’t a burden or casualty
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| You’re sworn to protect from indifference and rust
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| What indifference and rust will allow
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| It’s not very often but it happens sometimes
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| You can feel something pulling like the moon pulls the tides
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| Too strong to outswim and too deep to outlast
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| The past like a wave on the sea
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| We’re all trying to live up to some oath to ourselves
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| Try holding back time but it will not be held
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| No king has the power, no mortal the skill
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| But still you keep trying to see
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| What’s waiting for you at the end of your days
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| The wars you inherit, the truces you make
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| The riches you squandered, the love that you earned
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| And the nocturne you heard in a dream |