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Nov 2017
i’m not angry, i’m just scared
i’m put here but i’m not prepared
sink of dishes, pale of tin
it’s too cold not to let you in

i ask my friend where she’s been
she tells me life is full of sin
i ask my lovers where they’ve gone
they sing to me that same old song
they tell me that it won’t be long
before the sun shines in but
i’m still waiting out the storm
the half-moon glows late after dawn

i’m not sure where to start
or how to fix this broken heart
the music, it still plays on
even though everyone is gone
i ask the mouse with the squeaky voice
he tells me that he’s had no choice
the way it is, they way it’ll be
he tells me just to stop and see

the indian, his flute will play
the sky will always be this gray
the soldiers march in disarray
today’s just like any other day

in my head i sing a song
and i know that it won’t be long
before this cloud lifts from me and
i will hum the harmony

the way it is – the way it goes
this ball of fear gathers and grows
the answer’s somewhere i suppose
in the hands of those who know

how i see you and you see me
do we have a chance at harmony?
i guess that’s been our mystery
let it go  –  let it be
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