| When all is calm, a bird from afar
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| The bleeding song of all that we are
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| If you go I’m running after you
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| And it goes oh, oh
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| Can we go home?
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| On wagon rides, our tingling toes
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| Back alley skies, the wind in our clothes
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| Run it back, back to the start of our song
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| Cry bird
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| And all the calls of popsicle bells
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| In blanket forts with oil pastels
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| Run it back, back to the start of our song
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| 'Cause it goes oh, oh
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| Can we go home, home?
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| 'Cause it goes oh, oh
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| Can we go home, home?
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| (Will it ever be the same again?)
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| (How much does it take?)
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| (Could it ever be the same again?)
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| (How much does it take?)
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| Can’t you live your life without it?
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| Put it all behind
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| I’d like to believe that in our life we’re guided
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| By the first few lines
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| So what’re you waiting for?
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| Sure you always talk about it
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| But your word’s never sure
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| Don’t you know?
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| Home is not what you call it
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| If you’re scared to go
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| Got yourself binoculars
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| Looking for a home, yeah
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| Can’t you see you’re looking for
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| The mountain that you’re on?
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| You’ll know it
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| Got no doubt about it
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| Don’t you know it’s fine?
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| This puzzle wasn’t always complicated
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| The journey is the home you’re looking for |