| I said goodbye to Los Angeles then I boarded the plane
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| Searching for a version of myself before the pain
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| And the players in my story, they still look much the same
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| But the boys I used to laugh with, I am watching as they change
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| We grow up, we grow old, we move on and we grow cold
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| We’re afraid, so we stay, feeling things we just can’t say
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| It is hard enough when you are standing out there all alone
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| And the ones you love are changing into strangers
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| The ritual we play at is so simple and so pure
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| With a hint of desperation in my voice, cause I’m unsure
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| Aching for a simpler time but needing so much more
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| Remembering those nights that seemed so endless long before
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| We grow up, we grow old, we move on and we grow cold
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| We’re afraid, so we stay, feeling things we just can’t say
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| It is hard enough when you are standing out there all alone
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| And the ones you love are changing into strangers
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| All my failures at redemption overshadowed by success
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| I do not think I have earned and so I’m fraying at the edges
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| And my seams have come undone
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| So I wonder when enough is enough
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| Think about that dancer, in her rapture in the dark
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| And my longing for her answer, for some beauty, or a spark
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| And that never ending hunger as she laid there in my arms
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| Moving forwards, looking backwards, still unsure of what we are
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| We grow up, we grow old, we move on and we grow cold
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| We’re afraid, so we stay, feeling things we just can’t say
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| It is hard enough when you are standing out there all alone
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| And the ones you love are changing into strangers
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| And the ones you love are changing into strangers |