| She turns her face to the wall
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| She won’t let anybody see her
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| The winter comes and sits
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| Where the window doesn’t fit
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| And she cries herself awake another morning
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| Across the street a cafe
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| And the sound of people laughing
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| Her heart it wants to go
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| But the rest of her says no
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| And she lies under the weight of another morning
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| Another morning
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| She might have flown away with the day
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| With her sorrow circling below her
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| Another morning could see her swinging high above the crowds
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| With the feeling that they all want to know her
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| But the truth is that she
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| Don’t know who she’ll be tomorrow
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| Just what face to wear
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| Or the way she’ll do her hair
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| And that’s why she’s so afraid of another morning
|
| But the truth is that she
|
| Don’t know who she’ll be tomorrow
|
| Just what face to wear
|
| Or the way she’ll do her hair
|
| And that’s why she’s so afraid of another morning
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| Why’s she so afraid of another morning?
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| Oh, why’s she so afraid of another morning? |