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you could take this for granted, |
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or you could take it so hard |
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nothing's ever forgotten |
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that you write on your arm |
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like a long list of groceries |
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or errands to run; |
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you feel so accomplished, |
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check them off, one by one |
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and the shopping cart's swerving |
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from a wobbling wheel |
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just a very small thing |
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makes it so hard to steer |
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and under hot running water, |
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see your day disappear |
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if you don't know they're coming, |
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it gets hard to go on |
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but it makes you glad you decided |
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to be alive |
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it's good to know when good things |
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it's good to know when good things |
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it's good to know when good things will |
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arrive |
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am i beating a live horse? |
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is this the wrong way |
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to stop things from moving, |
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to stop all the neighs? |
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you should meet me in london |
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where the bright goes grey |
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and the little birds dance |
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at the side of the lake |
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they can keep you from leaving, |
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though they haven't arrived |
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just the thought is enough |
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to keep you alive |
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it's good to know when good things |
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it's good to know when good things |
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it's good to know when good things will |
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arrive |