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Sitting in an empty house |
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On a simple chair in the corner |
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Of an empty room, on a wooden floor |
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With nothing between here |
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And where |
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I came from |
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Except for a girl waiting for a bus |
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With a leather knapsack |
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Over her shoulder |
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And hope in her eyes |
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And enough beauty |
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To fill this empty room |
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A thousand times |
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Like youLike you |
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Like youJust like you |
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Like youLike you |
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Like youJust like you |
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She ties her legs in a bow |
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And like butterflies |
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Her eyes close |
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Then her soul stretches |
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Like paint in the rain |
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She breathes |
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Her arms fall up |
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Stretching up reaching |
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She moves the sun |
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Like youLike you |
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Like youJust like you |
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Like youJust |
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Like youLike you |
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Just like you |
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Like youLike you |
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Like youJust like you |
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Like youLike you |
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Like youJust like you |
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Like youLike you |
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Like youJust like you |
|
Like youLike you |
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Like youJust like you |
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Like you |