| So you honestly believe in me
|
| Though I wake up every night, oh
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| And I’ve been dreaming of a second rush
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| While the first one leaves your eye
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| What if you’d never been through lies
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| Young sorrow, wailing loans
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| What if you’d never seen through that
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| To the fields of our home
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| Always rumors of a flame in town
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| Not by parents ever traced, no
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| Just a part of what we do out here
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| Subtle early, vicious late
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| What if I’d never been through finds
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| Of sorrow, wailing loans
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| What if I’d never seen through that
|
| To the fields of our home
|
| When all falling down is just the travelling need
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| Of a wave
|
| And the burn of salt in the cuts come around
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| Heal again
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| There was always racing on that crossing street
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| Where you’d land on quiet heels
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| Will there ever be a sane time to
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| Let them know how walking feels
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| What if we never see through crying tomorrows
|
| Wailing loans
|
| What if we never see through that
|
| To the fields of our
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| The more we believe in these frozen grounds
|
| Suddenly hunger disappears
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| Will we fall as we run with our closing eyes
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| Is this a lifetime or some years? |