| Morning breeze comes blowing in as pressure starts to fade
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| Me I wake up early now, I know it’s a cliche
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| Oh but you’ll never find me sleeping at the end of any day
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| It’s far too much to find my primed imagination
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| It wonders through the night despite my petty protestations
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| But you’ll never know I won’t disclose the worried state I’m in
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| I do so value my composure it’s unclear where to begin
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| Between the headlines read and endless dread or anxious moments when
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| I just interpret with the best faith that I can
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| But uncertainty unwelcome always comes to foil my carefulest laid plans
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| There are things we didn’t ever used to talk about
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| The excitement in the evening just before the stars came out
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| Like the rustling in the shadows in the park
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| Like how we wandered off alone to find what we feel in the dark
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| Like how it doesn’t just get easy 'cause you start
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| With your head laid on the shoulder of some boy you barely knew
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| Your unsleeping mind meandered through the things you did and didn’t do
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| And uncertain in the morning you’d remember it was true
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| And on the wings of it you flew into the next town
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| For the next few days you smiled and said you’re glad you came around
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| Oh but the blowback’s never easy when you’re not sure what it means
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| The flipside of euphoria is still this mess it seems
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| And when you found a path less traveled doubt just climbed inside your dream
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| There’s always something saying you’re not obeying
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| Some central laid out principles of being
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| I wanna say we are a people ever aching from self doubt
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| Not that it’s so unique, it’s just a thing to think about
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| I mean our parents model virtues of the workplace of the house
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| But not the night and not the road and not the family we find out in the cold
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| Not to be tender-hearted sending our fear usefulness when old
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| And you wondered what it meant to be politically queer
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| So when I’m lost within my longing is it politics I hear?
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| But the way you felt so strong among the ones you held so dear
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| It wasn’t home it’s someplace that you could believe in
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| Now the rents are rising and your closest friends are leaving
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| Over the things we didn’t ever used to talk about
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| Like how pretenses and purity just drenched us in self doubt
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| Like how we arrive imperfect as we are
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| Like how the night wind felt more changeable than cold and distant stars
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| Like how sometimes it just all still seems so far |