| I’m at the end of myself
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| I just dropped out of the running
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| I don’t recall when I last pulled the shades and said
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| «Here comes the sun, here comes the new day»
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| Someone remind me again
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| That joy might show up on occasion
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| I’m sitting here with my hands on my head
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| And my eyes on the ground, wondering if I’ll be found by You
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| Will you make me new?
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| Will you take what’s left of me?
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| I guarantee that it won’t be a fair trade
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| Will you set me free from what’s keeping me afraid?
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| I know I’ve prayed it all before
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| But I’m back on the altar
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| I don’t believe what they say
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| About one foot in front of the other
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| If my life was a map
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| You’d see every last step
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| Just circling around
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| Still lost, never found by You
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| So will you make me new?
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| Will you take what’s left of me?
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| I guarantee that it won’t be a fair trade
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| Will you set me free from what’s keeping me afraid?
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| I know I’ve prayed it all before
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| But I’m back on the altar
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| Maybe last year I’d have made empty promises
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| Maybe last month I have tried to pull strings
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| But I don’t have one single chip left to bargain with
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| The only thing left is me needing You
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| To make me new
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| Will you take what’s left of me?
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| I guarantee that it won’t be a fair trade
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| Will you set me free from what’s keeping me afraid?
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| I know I’ve prayed it all before
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| But I’m back on the altar |