| I came to be here in the garden
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| I came to walk alone
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| To hear the quiet conversation
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| Between my footsteps and the stone
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| I came to find some self-acceptance
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| I came searching for my truth
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| But something’s telling me to go where
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| It’s far too dark to look
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| Oh, I can see you Mara
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| I see you standing there
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| You’re with me in the dark
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| I hear you questions in the air
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| Oh, Mara, why do you stand there?
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| You have come here in the silence, uh
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| In the breath between the ring
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| The storm distorts the garden’s beauty
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| And leaves me wondering again
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| Distracting you is not the answer
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| If the question you relay
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| Is not how to design something
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| But why build it anyway?
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| Oh, I can see you Mara
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| I see you standing there
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| You’re with me in the dark
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| Your questions working through air
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| Oh, Mara, why do you stand there?
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| Oh, Mara, why do you stand there?
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| Have you come here weak and hungry
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| To feed upon the scraps?
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| Do you sit patient in the bushes
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| Waiting to attack?
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| But I won’t stop my feet in anger, no
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| Or beat upon my chest
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| Instead I ask that you allow me
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| To talk with you instead
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| Oh, I can see you Mara
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| I see you standing there
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| You’re with me in the dark
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| Your questions working through air
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| Oh, Mara, why do you stand there?
|
| Oh, Mara, why do you stand there?
|
| Oh, Mara, why do you stand there?
|
| Oh, Mara, why do you stand there?
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| Oh, Mara, why do you stand there?
|
| Oh, Mara, why do you stand there?
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| Oh, Mara, why do you stand there?
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| Oh, Mara, why do you stand there?
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| Oh, Mara, why do you stand there? |