| I think I’m seeing things in my coffee cup
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| And I don’t know if all these dreams will ever be enough
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| To keep me truckin' along this dusty, potholed road
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| I suppose I should be going now, my coffee’s getting cold
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| Just like my soul
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| Sunrise, sunset, doesn’t matter, it’s always the same
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| The sun is moving all the time, but we’re the ones changing
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| Ranges of emotion cluttering my mind
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| Bouncing through my body, destroying my insides
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| But please don’t take my soul;
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| It’s the thing I need most
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| Times’s a-wasting, my breath’s becoming short
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| Waiting for an answer, but it’s time I can’t afford
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| Begging and bartering has become my last resort
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| It’s up to me to acknowledge or to ignore:
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| Time
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| What’s the point of wondering when nothing’s getting done?
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| And what’s the use of marching to the beat of your own drum
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| When you’re out of tune and have no rhythm and you’re all torn up?
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| Well, Father, if it is your will then please just take this cup
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| Take this cup
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| So I put on my helmet and I strap on my boots
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| The rest of it is uphill and I know that I may lose
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| But there’s no chance of gaining if I never even try
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| And I would like to know myself before I have to die
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| As I sigh my last sigh
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| Times’s a-wasting, my breath’s becoming short
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| Waiting for an answer, but it’s time I can’t afford
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| Begging and bartering has become my last resort
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| It’s up to me to acknowledge or to ignore:
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| Time
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| Time to listen, time to learn
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| Time to rise up from these ashes of my burned
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| And broken life that I led
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| To save my soul no longer dead
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| My soul no longer dead |