Where do we go from here?
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How do we carry on?
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I can't get beyond the questions.
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Clambering for the scraps
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In the shatter of us collapsed.
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That cuts me with every could-have-been.
|
|
Pain on pain on play, repeating
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With the backup makeshift life in waiting.
|
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Everybody says: "Time heals everything."
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But what of the wretched hollow?
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The endless in-between?
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Are we just going to wait it out?
|
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There's nothing to see here now,
|
Turning the sign around;
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We're closed to the Earth 'til further notice.
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Stumbling cliche case -
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Crumpled and puffy-faced -
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Dead in the stare of a thousand miles.
|
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All I want: only one street-level miracle.
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I'll be a an out-and-out, born again from none more cynical.
|
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Everybody says that time heals everything all in the end.
|
But what of the wretched hollow?
|
The endless in-between?
|
Are we just going to wait it out?
|
|
And sit here cold?
|
We'll be long gone by then.
|
And lackluster in dust we lay
|
'round old magazines.
|
Fluorescent lighting sets the scene
|
For all we could and should be being
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In the one life that we've got.
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(Musical interlude)
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In the one life that we've got.
|
|
Everybody says that time heals everything.
|
But what of the wretched hollow?
|
The endless in-between?
|
|
Are we just going to wait it out?
|
Sit here. Just going to wait it out?
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Sit here cold. Just going to sweat it out?
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|
Wait it out.
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-----------------
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Wait It Out
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Imogen Heap |