| In quiet hours, still awake
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| I listen to each breath you take
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| And I wonder what you dream about
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| How far we’ve come, since we were young
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| Our preconceptions now undone
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| So I wonder what you dream about
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| I’m mine, I might be soaring
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| Pushing things to greater heights
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| But like Icarus, the flames are real
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| And dreams turn into nightmares
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| I know my wings might falter once up in the sky
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| But I don’t want to fall — I want to fly
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| I never saw myself as one who went outside the lines
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| Our life’s momentum takes us, and in an instant it’s behind us
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| It’s sacrilege to take advantage of the blind
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| But what about uncertainties that work to cloud our mind?
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| If our perception causes us to go astray
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| Who can help us try to find our way?
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| I never saw myself as one whose life was just a race out of control
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| But in the mirror I see the lines grow deeper on my face
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| It’s sacrilege to take advantage of the blind
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| But what about uncertainties that work to cloud our mind?
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| If our perception causes us to go astray
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| Who can help us try to find our way?
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| When I look back on all that’s happened
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| When I look back on choices I have made
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| Should I regret the contours of my path?
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| The broken cobblestones that I have paved?
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| We’re only given just so many sunny days
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| We’re only given so much time to build a life
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| Our choices all along the way construct a maze
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| And when our time is up we could be trapped inside
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| Lost in fantasies and never to return
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| While we are building, tearing down or making plans
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| The days are vanishing, the world won’t fail to turn
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| Choices have consequences, limiting our future
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| And yet the weight of outcomes cannot be discerned
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| Make them wisely, child
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| It’s hard to look around me now at everything I have
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| And not derive contentment from it all
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| Dreams made real, and the future unforeseen has played out well
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| But is contentment the enemy of growth?
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| Could I have overlooked what might have mattered most?
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| You must have been something else when you were younger
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| You must have been something else when you were free
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| When all that you had was time and the world of choices was yours
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| And you chose me
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| We spend half our lives repairing bridges that our selfish actions helped
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| destroy
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| But it’s still so hard for us to recognize that a life is such a fragile toy
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| We spend half our lives making disguises; |
| we perfect and use them as our tools
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| Then spend all of our remaining years searching for something we cannot fool
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| At day’s end we’ll throw out our disguises with nothing to defend
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| At day’s end we’ll pick up all the pieces and learn to live again
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| When you look back on all that’s happened, would you do it all again?
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| That’s the honest measure of our lives
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| Knowing then what you know now, would you choose me once again?
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| That’s the question carrying most weight at day’s end
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| I know my wings have faltered once up in the sky
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| But even if you’re falling, there’s still time to fly
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| And looking with dispassion at the choices I have made
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| I know it’s self-defeating to carry regret onto my grave
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| I know that there’s a reason why my road returns to you
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| And why, despite the obstacles we both had to fight through
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| We both have had our doubts, but I think we know it’s true
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| That you remain the best of me, and I the best of you
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| And all our struggles, and every time we’ve cried
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| They’re rendered meaningless in our embrace
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| ‘Cause we’re still standing, and nothing can prevail
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| Against a love that’s meant to be
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| At day’s end we put down our disguises with nothing to defend
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| At day’s end we pick up all the pieces and learn to love again |