| We are the meant to be, the sum of all that we’ve tried
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| A tattered history but one with nothing to hide
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| And our reality, stubbornly, will not be denied
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| We are the enemies of the empty passing of time
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| And all the energy that stays locked up inside
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| We are the reckoning, reminding what it means to be alive
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| Tell me what you seek out
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| We’ll fumble in the dark and find it
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| And clumsily now
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| We’ll get to where we get
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| And through our broken steps, we’ll make it
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| We are the broken ones, we’ll take the stones that they throw
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| And build a monument, so everybody will know
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| We cannot be undone, we will become, the lights along the road
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| Tell me what you seek out
|
| We’ll fumble in the dark and find it
|
| And clumsily now
|
| We’ll get to where we get
|
| And through our broken steps, we’ll make it
|
| We will make it
|
| We are the reckoning reminding what it means to be alive
|
| We are the meant to be, the sum of all that we have ever tried
|
| We are the reckoning reminding what it means to be alive
|
| Tell me what you seek out
|
| We’ll fumble in the dark and find it
|
| And clumsily now
|
| We’ll get to where we get
|
| And through our broken steps, we’ll make it
|
| We will make it |