| A song travels further than the singer who sang it
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| The sound of a church bell’s not intended
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| For the ears of the person who rang it
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| Gosh dang it, you don’t see the full picture while you hang it
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| A song travels further than the singer who sang it
|
| The sound of a church bell’s not intended
|
| For the ears of the person who rang it
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| Gosh dang it, the art hits you different depending on how you frame it, uh
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| This one life doesn’t come with a damn manual
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| We don’t write about the plight of every sand granule
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| It just kinda goes where the water takes it
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| New life like when the water breaks
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| When a mother makes it, and out slides something sacred
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| Helpless and naked, they’d be nothing without the love that made it
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| We’re cut from a soft cloth
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| And from a long list you could get crossed off shortly
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| Lots of luck required to survive
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| Love’s a luxury so we’re lucky to be alive
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| We arrive in this world like we woke up after we were dreaming
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| Steady searching for a deeper meaning
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| But it’s not what it is, it’s how you interpret
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| They say it’s good luck when you get struck by bird shit
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| I’ve heard infinite phrases like those uttered
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| Glasses both half full and rose-colored
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| So flustered I’ve lustered many a good old-fashioned cuss words
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| Speech drunk and plus slurred, just err preferred now
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| It’s absurd how we make ourselves miserable
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| Drag our lives down from dismal to abysmal
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| It’s pitiful, I’m tryna change while I still can
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| Live the rest of my life happy and fulfilled, man
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| Come from different angles like a miter saw
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| Toughness can come from the fighter’s fist or from the fighter’s jaw
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| Writer’s block doesn’t lead to a writer’s fall
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| It just takes you down a path you ain’t never saw
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| Working harder by putting in no effort at all
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| I set if off, every thought in my beck and call
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| I hit a bullseye without a target involved
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| Reigns like the feather color palette of the scarlet macaw
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| Higher the climb, the taller the fall
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| If you see me at the bottom, I’m probably covered in salt
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| And mud and blood, I free solo and fall often
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| You don’t have to be the freaking offspring of Lori Loughlin to get that upper
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| echelon knowledge
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| The highest education is raw and unpolished
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| Walls made and demolished, laws made and abolished
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| All things made by man are from the hand of a novice
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| We are very not easily astonished, it must baffle God
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| Or aliens or whoever must think it’s rather odd
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| How we’re always looking down and never looking up
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| How we think what we’ve been given isn’t good enough
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| Just one life given to us
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| But through it, all we want to do is rush
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| A song travels further than the singer who sang it
|
| The sound of a church bell’s not intended
|
| For the ears of the person who rang it
|
| Gosh dang it, you don’t see the full picture while you hang it
|
| A song travels further than the singer who sang it
|
| The sound of a church bell’s not intended
|
| For the ears of the person who rang it
|
| Gosh dang it, that art hits you different depending on how you frame it |