| Good days, bad days, I’ve had a few of those
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| Same old story-I know how this song goes
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| At least, I did, but now I’m not so sure
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| Nothing’s in its place, nothing’s certain anymore
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| Birds fly, trees sway, why can’t I be like that?
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| Happy knowing what I am, in fact and leaving be?
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| But truth has been obscured
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| I am only human and I’m always wanting… more
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| Oh, the world is a place and they say it’s on our side
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| But I wonder, is there comfort in those moments when we die?
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| Now I see, Mr. King, that was in the books you gave me
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| Which I read, disbelieving, thinking poets are depressed
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| Oh, Mr. King, I have changed, I confess
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| Oh, those good days I remember well:
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| Tape on windows, wintertime was hell
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| But it was fun, and people there were kind
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| There was good work to be done, and I learnt to think my time
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| And the world was a good place, and in days were where I lived
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| I imagined life had purpose and I’d something good to give
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| Mr. Cave played along on the battered hallway piano
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| Oh, every love song a secret to be shared
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| Hey, Mr. King, how I wish I was back there
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| Now, I’ve got 10 things lined up on a shelf
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| Reasons to be cheerful for myself
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| I don’t know why you’re showing me the sky
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| You say you see heaven
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| I see hell, but want to try
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| And the world is a place, and I pray it’s on my side
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| But I’d find greater comfort if I just lay down and died
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| I don’t know what’s become of the girl who once knew sunshine
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| What’s become of the girl who knew sorrow but was strong?
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| Hey, Mr. King you were right, all along
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| Mr. King you were right
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| Oh, Mr. King, you were right-I was wrong |