| There’s beauty in the butterfly
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| But also in the moth
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| There’s beauty in the sinner before and after he got lost
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| There’s beauty in the traitor if freedom’s on the line
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| There’s beauty in the outcast if beauty saves your life
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| And I keep on moving
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| Maybe there’s beauty in the mother
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| And in the father and the ghost
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| But then there’s beauty in all others if decency’s the boast
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| There’s beauty in the struggle
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| And beauty in the cost
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| If along the way the purpose was that beauty wasn’t lost
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| Well there’s beauty in the simple and in the fury of extremes
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| There’s even fury in injustice if in return nobody swings
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| So I keep on moving
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| Well there’s beauty in the boxcars and the wisdom of their saints
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| There’s beauty in the moment and in the turning of the page
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| There’s beauty in the knowing and in the wishing that you could
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| Like magic ain’t a miracle
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| Just your cards misunderstood
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| Well there’s beauty in our doing
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| Though diminished in our name
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| The same beauty in a snowfall is also in a flame
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| There’s beauty in creation as there’s beauty in its loss
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| There’s beauty in the sinner before and after he got lost
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| And I keep on moving |