Suburban sprawl and marigold, condominiums and churches. You passed the signs that say you should be home now. You're a passenger along for the ride. I'm an author unable to write. A solemn song plays on the radio. A distant life lived between the lies. Sometimes I feel I've been here before. When my knees were weak it was all I had. I still like to sing alone. A cure no medicine could touch. Though I've made it mine it could be yours too. That's the beauty of it all. That's the beauty in a song. Though I've made it mine it can be yours too. That's the beauty in a song. That's the beauty when you sing along.
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