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I was born to start a revolution |
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it would be my contribution |
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to a worldwide resurrection |
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I was born to start a million fires |
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the joy of mens' desires |
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was laid in my hand |
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But I was born a weak and worried thinker |
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with an eagerness to know myself |
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that throws it all away |
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'Cause all I can think of is: |
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-Love |
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And saturday |
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and how the golden road can seize to glare |
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Oh, man! What if I just don't give a damn? |
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-How wonderful! |
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But after all the worst can't be that bad |
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Oh, man...What if I knew how to say: |
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- Stop |
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- No |
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- Let go? |
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- Oh, the angelheaded demons-tongue |
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who thought he knew |
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why some mirrors crack so easily |
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- now, he ain't got a clue |
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And every now and then |
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it seems to me it's come to this |
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-that promises and prophecies |
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was all i had to give |
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'Cause all I can think of is: |
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Love... |
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Oh, Love... |
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But after all the worst can't be that bad |
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Oh, man... |
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Seems like a joy surrender |