| Floating on like a plastic bag without a home
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| Pages folded became paper planes that we could fly
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| We’ve clipped every wing we used to fly
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| Your wings might be broken but it’s not too late
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| You hide your emotions so you can escape
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| You can’t be afraid to make mistakes
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| And you can’t fake perfection
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| Broken compass still moving forward
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| A constant north, the one I’ll never know
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| Like everything I gravitate to what ends up killing me
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| We’re separated by a hell of a lot more than the sky
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| Your wings might be broken but it’s not too late
|
| You hide your emotions so you can escape
|
| You can’t be afraid to make mistakes
|
| And you can’t fake perfection
|
| It’s not what you’ve done
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| But what you’ll choose to do
|
| It’s not what you’ve done
|
| But what you’ll choose to do
|
| Your wings might be broken but it’s not too late
|
| You hide your emotions so you can escape
|
| You can’t be afraid to make mistakes
|
| And you can’t fake perfection |