| Let me watch by the fire and remember my days
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| And it may be a trick of the firelight
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| But the flickering pages that trouble my sight
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| Is a book I’m afraid to write
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| It’s the book of my days, it’s the book of my life
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| And it’s cut like a fruit on the blade of a knife
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| And it’s all there to see as the section reveals
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| There’s some sorrow in every life
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| If it reads like a puzzle, a wandering maze
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| Then I won’t understand 'til the end of my days
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| I’m still forced to remember,
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| Remember the words of my life
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| There are promises broken and promises kept
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| Angry words that were spoken, when I should have wept
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| There’s a chapter of secrets, and words to confess
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| If I lose everything that I possess
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| There’s a chapter on loss and a ghost who won’t die
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| There’s a chapter on love where the ink’s never dry
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| There are sentences served in a prison I built out of lies.
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| Though the pages are numbered
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| I can’t see where they lead
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| For the end is a mystery no one can read
|
| In the book of my life
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| There’s a chapter on fathers a chapter on sons
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| There are pages of conflicts that nobody won
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| And the battles you lost and your bitter defeat,
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| There’s a page where we fail to meet
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| There are tales of good fortune that couldn’t be planned
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| There’s a chapter on god that I don’t understand
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| There’s a promise of heaven and hell but I’m damned if I see
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| Though the pages are numbered
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| I can’t see where they lead
|
| For the end is a mystery no one can read
|
| In the book of my life
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| Now the daylight’s returning
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| And if one sentence is true
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| And all these pages are burning
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| And all that’s left is you
|
| Though the pages are numbered
|
| I can’t see where they lead
|
| For the end is a mystery no one can read
|
| In the book of my life |