| All of my life, I’ve been asking the same things
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| And I still don’t think I’m closer to an answer
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| I’d build an ark at the first sighting of rain
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| But the sky just stays the same, and I feel landlocked by our conversation
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| I can’t tell the difference between stars and lights that I’m to follow
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| They all glow
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| So set my sails toward westward gales
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| And pray that love don’t just blow one direction
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| 500 times I’ve asked you if you’re still there
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| And I never hear replies, yet somehow I’m still doing fine
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| If I find land, will I know if it was planned, or if it’s all just happenstance?
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| And will it matter as long as there is ground around for my feet?
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| If I head south, will that be heresy?
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| No, I don’t think so
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| So cast my fears away from piers
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| And pray that love don’t just blow one direction
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| Listen to the river, now
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| Listen to the river
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| When I woke up, you were standing on the opposite bank
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| And I saw that you never needed to be saved
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| And I know, I know, I know
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| That I’ve seen the light go out in so many friend’s eyes |
| But the wind can’t take the spark that settled inside
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| And I know, I know, I know we’ll be alright |