This country is my canvas ?
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I leave paint trails as I go.
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I¡¯m painting a picture
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That you can only see from outer space.
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My bedroom is your sofa,
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I take my breakfast on the train.
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I¡¯m tired and I¡¯m dirty, and not a second goes to waste.
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I¡¯ll be dead but never dying, and I say that with a smile
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It¡¯s just my way of trying to be alive.
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Well I¡¯ll never get to grey hair
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And I¡¯ll never be in the black,
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But I can tell stories that most can hardly dream.
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Dreaming is a luxury,
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Like stopping-staring and beauty sleep.
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I¡¯ll stop when I¡¯m finished,
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And sleep is for the weak.
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Heaven¡¯s in the half-light, and that¡¯s where I reside,
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A whiskey and a wry smile ?
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I check my vital signs.
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And when I¡¯m gone,
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The worlds revolve, and life goes on,
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So mark no grave,
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Forget my name.
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If the song remains
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And everybody¡¯s got a drink and a smile,
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Well, that¡¯s just fine by me.
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Vital Signs
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Frank Turner |