| I’m looking out my window,
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| I can see all the good and the bad,
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| And I’m trying to be thankful,
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| For all the past fortunes I’ve had,
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| I’m standing at the window,
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| Trying to stay off the ledge,
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| 'Cause when you’re drawn to the window,
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| You’re also drawn to the edge.
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| If there’s a hole in your soul,
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| Think about it as though,
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| It’s nothing more than a window,
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| And you can look deep within,
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| Then start to begin,
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| To repair what damage there is.
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| I’m staring into the window,
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| I can see my pain in its pane,
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| I’m trapped inside the window,
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| Encased in its frame,
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| I’m trying to open the window,
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| Pushing against the glass,
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| Is it a passage to the future,
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| Or a portal to the past?
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| If there’s a hole in your soul… |