| Old man in a rocking chair
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| You wake up, you’ve been living alone
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| After all these years
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| Surrounded by these shards of mirrors
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| And how’d it get so quiet here?
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| You wonder, «Where did everyone go?»
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| You tried so hard to make people remember you for something that you were not
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| And if they so remember you then something else will certainly get forgotten
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| Life is for the living
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| I’ve heard tell that it is why we are young
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| In the morning sun
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| You take every year as it comes
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| But when your life is over
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| All those years fold up like an accordion
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| They collapse just like a broken lung
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| Now I’ve only got one organ left and this old bag of bones
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| It is failing me
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| I try to tell people that I’m dying only they don’t believe me
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| They say, «We're all dying,» that we’re all dying
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| But if you are dying, why aren’t you scared?
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| Why aren’t you scared like i’m scared?
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| I read somewhere that when you face eternity, you’ll face it alone
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| Not matter what you thought or what you had or you had not
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| Unless you put yourself in God
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| But tell me, God, oh where did you go?
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| Every bitter night into an empty room, I plead my case
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| Every night I pray that in the morning when I wake
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| I’ll be in a familiar place and I’ll find that I’m recovered and I’m sane
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| And I’ll remember everything
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| I’ll remember what I was like before that bug bit me
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| And when I have my childhood back
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| I’ll tear every page out of my book
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| And place them in an urn
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| And strike a match and watch them burn
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| Then I’ll hold the front cover
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| Against the back cover and look
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| You’ll see
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| Eternity will smile on me |