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We go outside in the sun for the last hours of the day, for the best hours of the day |
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Our heads are sore from the day we've had or the night before |
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But our worries seem to pass when we lay down on the grass |
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In the dwindling light of the sun |
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In the arms of your only one |
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When the wait and the work has been done |
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Is this home? Is this home? |
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I could be wrong - so what? We won't be young for long |
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And there are trees outside for us to climb |
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In case we grow too old before our time |
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In the dwindling light of the sun |
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In the arms of your only one |
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When the wait and the work has been done |
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Is this home? Is this home? |
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At the prettiest part of the day |
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When the sunset starts out on her way |
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And his arms and his lips seem to say |
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This is home, this is home. |