| There’s a storm in my glass of water
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| Should have had it reinforced
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| The winds blow from all quarters
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| Stirs up every water poured
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| I’m afraid the glass will shatter
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| And the pieces will cut me like knives
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| Still I believe that this matters
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| I drink water for day life
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| If I empty this glass, I surrender
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| But the water flows more and more
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| The persistently pouring bartender
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| Tells me I’m uncalled for
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| With both my hands I protect
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| This tempestuous fragility
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| But my glass is already wrecked
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| It’s the storm’s sweeping victory
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| So much ado about nothing I know
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| So much ado about nothing
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| But I can’t skip it I cannot let go
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| Cause this nothing is tied to my heartstring
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| This is all just a petty affair
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| You might call it a standing joke
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| But the storm in my glass could appear
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| To have fell the greatest oak
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| What is vital or of no moment
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| Is only for me to decide
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| So here I am mending the fragments
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| Of a trifle once dignified
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| So much ado about nothing I know
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| So much ado about nothing
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| But I can’t skip it I cannot let go
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| Cause this nothing is tied to my heartstring
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| To my heartstring
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| To my heartstring
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| To my heartstring
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| So much ado about nothing I know
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| So much ado about nothing
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| But I can’t skip it I cannot let go
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| Cause this nothing is tied to my heartstring
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| There’s a storm in my glass of water
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| There’s a storm in my glass of water (There is a storm)
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| There’s a storm in my glass of water (There is a storm)
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| There’s a storm in my glass of water (There is a storm)
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| There is a storm… |