| You danced with borrowed feet
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| Through times of borrowed days
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| With the promise of a try
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| To the rhythm of a lie
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| Then a sound was to be heard
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| A song that I had to learn
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| You sang with an alien voice
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| In the midst of your hearts own noise
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| The song was yours
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| The song was
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| You danced too long with no face
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| Borrowed too many days
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| Then the borrowed feet failed
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| And the voice became frail
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| Your whispered weak to the night;
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| «tuck me in I am tired»
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| And the night put over his coat
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| That strangled the sound of each note
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| This song is yours
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| The song is
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| They say you left behind
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| Nothing but a troubled mind
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| For all who’s left to cry over
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| But tears can turn to gold
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| When something of our own
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| Is brought to sight
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| As tears clear our eyes
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| This song is yours
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| This song is yours |