| All the little faces that make up the sky
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| Will fall and replace us when we die
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| Take it from me, I am alive
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| Or if not, at least this feels right, to be tied
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| Coffee-sick and spacing, my car drives itself
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| Down Central, up Harlem, aimless like I’m everywhere
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| I always took care of how I felt
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| Or at least tried to listen well for the bell
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| The time we’ve taken has been
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| Every second, a little bit more restless
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| The sounds have always been right there
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| To help me hear myself again
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| (it's you, all you)
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| Back then, my teenage energy
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| Would take a thousand shapes
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| I would wrestle with my wanting
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| Then laugh it off and fill another page
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| But, now it’s not back then
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| And my face has hardly changed
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| I would let it happen back then
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| Just gotta do it the same way |