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When I was a little child, |
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I'd escape into my head |
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And into the heads of authors |
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Through the magic words I read |
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I'd be many different people, |
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Each one braver than myself |
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Then I wouldn't feel his weight |
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And I wouldn't hear them yell |
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When they asked me at the shelter, |
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If my father touched me there |
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I dreamt with my eyes open, |
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Mute I shook my hair |
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The truth was just too painful |
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And I did not trust their care |
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Only years and cities later |
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Could I lay the facts out bare |
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aoh..aho..aho..ye..ha.. |
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He took from me ten years of childhood, |
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Spent three years in jail at most |
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How can a country's code of justice |
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Be such a world away from just? |
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Mother says she still loves him, |
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Tells me that I'm doing fine, |
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That he needs her more than I do, |
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So I really should not mind |
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Now I'm supposed to be all grown up, |
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I escape into these songs |
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I still hide inside those books |
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When I'm really feeling down |
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Shame like a stalker haunts me |
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He may never go away |
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But I won't be sad, |
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I won't let him steal my joy |
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When he tells me I am worthless, |
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I sing out anyway |
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cause I won't be sad or silent |
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I won't let him steal my joy |
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He tells me I am worthless, |
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But I sing out anyway |
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Cause I won't be sad |
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I won't let him steal my joy |
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I won't be sad I won't be silent |
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I won't let him steal my joy |