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The Plot. |
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It was the best of my intentions |
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in the first week of spring |
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to set the standard for the year. |
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I redefined my expectations, |
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through calculated moves. |
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well, i had nothing more to loose. |
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Forget self pity, |
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i think i've finally found the art |
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of resetting without falling apart. |
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ignore the rain clouds, |
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this is the clearest skies i've seen, |
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all my worries are cast off to see. |
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i feel so alive. |
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it was coming to November |
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and my confidence was shot, |
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i was searching for the plot. |
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i used gunpowder and reason, |
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oh hell it was the season |
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and im not selling myself short. |
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Forget self pity, |
|
i think i've finally found the art |
|
of resetting without falling apart. |
|
ignore the rain clouds, |
|
this is the clearest skies i've seen, |
|
all my worries are cast off to see. |
|
i feel so alive. |
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Take anything you want, |
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i dont know if i'll be back |
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please take anything you want |
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i dont know if i'll be back |
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oh please take anything that you want |
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and when i return i'll be a better man than the one that left |
|
Forget self pity, |
|
i think i've finally found the art |
|
of resetting without falling apart. |
|
ignore the rain clouds, |
|
this is the clearest skies i've seen, |
|
all my worries are cast off to see. |
|
i feel so alive. |