| Drenched by a thought
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| That I’ve lost my faith in God. |
| I still hide underneath umbrellas in hoping the
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| sky doesn’t see me there, but that sounds like
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| Faith to me
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| There was a time, I wasn’t so easily distracted, but now I can’t tell if I’ve
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| been faithful or naive
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| I still don’t like the feeling
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| I stood in front of you but to you I was background music, in another room on
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| the telephone you were saddened
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| I couldn’t believe how fragile we can be and how stubbornly we can pretend
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| everything is alright
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| I would do anything to give her words. |
| If God could only see to use her instead
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| of me, I would go to him and bleed myself clean
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| I would apologize for wasting his time. |
| I would apologize for wasting my life
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| And when the whole world asks, why I never called them back, they will point
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| their crooked fingers to you
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| And I will wish I would have one more moment to say, «It's all my fault.»
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| It’s one am, she is still alive inside her body somewhere, fill her veins with
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| tubes, read her a book and lay beside
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| Do you ever lie awake at night because daylight is such a burden sometimes?
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| So many people to please and no soul in your bones to
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| Keep their glasses full. |
| I wonder why beautiful days always end in rain,
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| or why a crow carries death like a worm to the nest, I protest
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| It’s all the same |