| When I was a boy
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| Hardly more than ten years old
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| My family moved to a small town
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| And I was destroyed leaving all my friends behind
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| And if I’d had a choice, we’d’ve stayed put
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| It’s only now I can see
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| Sometimes a little change can be good
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| At the end of the block
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| The ramshackle diner stood
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| My after school stop just to pass time
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| Where I met a girl nearly three times my age
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| But still, she painted my world with her kind words
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| And soft curves
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| Just a schoolboy crush
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| But you remind me of her
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| She saw something in me
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| I was lonely and misunderstood
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| She’d ask me to write down my wildest schemes
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| And over slices of blueberry pie
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| I learned to dream
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| She’d say «What good’s a dreamer without a believer?
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| We all just need someone to care
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| One who might listen and root for our wishes
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| Someone to simply be glad that we’re there
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| What good’s a hand if nobody needs holdin'?
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| When everything else falls away
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| If no one believes her‚ what good’s a dreamer anyway?|
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| Thank god for that place
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| It practically saved me
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| Those school kids sure didn’t take kind to this stranger
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| And I was eccentric, all grand plans and inventions
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| That I would’ve just thrown away
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| By listening, she let me have something to say
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| What good’s a dreamer without a believer?
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| We all just need someone to care
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| One who might listen and root for our wishes
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| Someone to simply be glad that we’re there
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| What good’s a hand if nobody needs holdin'?
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| When everything else falls away
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| If no one believes her‚ what good’s a dreamer anyway? |