| Take me back to the time
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| When I was maybe eight or nine
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| And I believed
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| When Jesus walked on waters blue
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| And if He helped me, I could too
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| If I believed
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| Before rationale, analysis and systematic thinking
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| Robbed me of a sweet simplicity
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| When wonders and when mysteries
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| Were far less often silly dreams
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| And childhood fantasies
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| Help me believe
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| Cause I don’t want to miss any miracles
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| Maybe I’d see much better by closing my eyes
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| And I would shed this grownup skin I’m in
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| To touch an angel’s wing
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| And I would be free
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| Help me believe
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| When mustard seeds made mountains move
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| A burning bush that spoke for You, was good enough
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| When manna fell from heavens high
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| Just because You told the sky to open up
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| Am I too wise to recognise that everything uncertain
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| Is certainly a possibility
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| When logic fails my reasoning
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| And science crushes underneath
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| The weight of all that is unseen
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| Help me believe
|
| Cause I don’t want to miss any miracles
|
| Maybe I’d see much better by closing my eyes
|
| And I would shed this grownup skin I’m in
|
| To touch an angel’s wing
|
| And I would be free
|
| Help me believe
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| When someone else’s education
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| Plays upon my reservations
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| I’m the first to cave, I’m the first to bleed
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| If I abandon all that seeks
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| To make my faith, informed and chic
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| Could You, would You show Yourself to me
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| (Help me believe, cause I don’t want to miss any miracles)
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| Maybe I’d see much better by closing my eyes
|
| And I would shed this grownup skin I’m in
|
| To touch one of their wings
|
| And I would be free
|
| I would be free
|
| I would be free
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| Help me believe
|
| Help me believe
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| Could You, would You show Yourself to me
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| Could You, would You shoy Yourself to me
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| Help me believe |