| Down the corridors of misty dreams
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| I chase the strange, elusive scenes
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| Of childhood days and playground games
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| And over here the angry names
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| That once were hurled in early years
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| And echo still in unshared tears
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| But I’m not there
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| No, I’m not there
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| In the attic of my memory
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| I see the faded tapestry
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| Of tangled threads from daisy chains
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| Collected in the sudden rains
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| Of summer days gone quickly by
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| I turn my face away and sigh
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| But I’m not there
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| No, I’m not there
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| I pass through brightly-lighted doors
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| To join the dance on crowded floors
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| Until the throbbing rhythm numbs
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| And one more empty night becomes
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| Another link that slipped the chain
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| And never can be found again
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| But I’m not there
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| No, I’m not there
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| On a day that hasn’t dawned as yet
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| Perhaps someone I’ve never met
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| Will say, «I'll tell you who you are»
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| «You are the one I’ve waited for
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| And when I look into those eyes
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| That strip me bare of all disguise
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| Then I’ll be there
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| Then I’ll be there |