| Long after the lure of home was lost
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| We were holed up in our room
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| In the guest room of my parent’s house
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| That was once my bedroom
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| We had spent so much time waiting
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| And wanting to come home
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| That when we came back, we came without purpose
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| Or it was all spent up
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| Then, home was a concrete reminder
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| Of how little we had actually done with our lives
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| Or of how barren a future can look without purpose
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| These are the moments that define you
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| How long the night before it’s dawn?
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| How long the hours?
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| We were down but not out
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| We held our heads up high
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| Our hearts were ripe with hope |