| The dying day paints a portrait of sadness
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| Upon this lonely L. A. tear
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| Have I found a home in this prison of my own
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| Trapped in a borderline career
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| But there she sits in a store on 13th street
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| Walking a borderline of her own
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| Is she ever gonna know the way that I see her
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| When she walks into a room
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| And I’m not exactly happy
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| About all of the things that I’ve done
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| I’ve made some mistakes and I know that I’m young
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| And I’m sorry if I hurt anyone
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| Well, of all the things I’m proud of
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| And the places I’ve found in the sun
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| The way I find myself loving her
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| Is the best thing I’ve ever done
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| God knows it’s hard to let someone new in
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| When you’re still looking for a sign
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| And the harder it sits, the older I get
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| But the taste is as sweet as wine
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| So come with me, skate across the dance floor
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| As I sing my song for you
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| But if you let go, I want you to know
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| That I’m saving my dance for you
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| And I know I’ve climbed some mountains
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| That I probably never should have climbed
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| I feel like falling farther and hit bottom harder
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| That I’ve ever reasoned or rhymed
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| But if I only had a way to show her
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| How deep my heartache runs
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| And the way I find myself loving her
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| Is the best thing I’ve ever done
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| And if anyone would have told me
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| I would have loved anyone this way
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| I probably never would have listened
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| But now I’m here and I have to say
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| That you only make me stronger
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| I’ve never been more proud of anyone
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| And the way I find myself loving you
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| Is the best thing I’ve ever done |