| I am alive, I am awake.
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| I am aware of what light tastes like.
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| The curtains drawn, the table’s set;
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| I wanna be, I wanna be, at my best.
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| It’s bittersweet, it’s poetry.
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| Careful pruning of my dead leaves.
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| It’s holy ground, a treasure chest;
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| I’m on my knees and only scratch the surface.
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| Like fists unraveling, like glass unshattering.
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| Breaking all the rules, breaking bread again.
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| Swallowing light, 'til we’re fixed from the inside.
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| Out of the woods, out of the dark.
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| I’m well aware of the shadows in my heart.
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| I wanna feel, tectonic shifts;
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| I wanna be, I wanna be, astonished.
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| I wanna be astonished.
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| So I propose a toast:
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| To fists unraveling, to glass unshattering.
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| To breaking all the rules, to breaking bread again.
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| We’re swallowing light, we’re swallowing our pride.
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| We’re raising our glass, 'til we’re fixed from the inside.
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| 'Til we’re fixed from the inside.
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| We’re nothing less than a work in progress.
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| Sacred text on Post-It notes.
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| We only speak of a world in pieces.
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| Let’s make a map of what matters most:
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| Where every fracture is a running river.
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| Leading us back to our golden coast.
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| Here’s to showing light,
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| To fists unraveling, to glass unshattering.
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| To breaking all the rules, to breaking bread again.
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| We’re swallowing light, we’re swallowing our pride.
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| We’re raising our glass, 'til we’re fixed from the inside.
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| 'Til we’re fixed from the inside. |