Chances are we are the same;
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Against the odds, against the grain
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We lean, like gardens toward light,
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But we wait, like evening for night,
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Don't we?
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Chances are we are alike;
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Against what better judgement writes
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We ache like children for love,
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For a purpose worthy of
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Such a noble aim,
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Such a noble aim,
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Such a noble aim as love.
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Chances are we bruise the same;
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A family tree desperate for rain.
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A thirst only deserts know best.
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A hurt so at home in our chests.
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Call it stubbornness or bravery,
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To let our branches continue to reach,
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With such a noble aim,
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With such a noble aim,
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With such a noble aim as love.
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Every broken branch and loosened leaf
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That we've grown to ignore,
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Is now a part of something greater than before.
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Every nest that rests upon our limbs,
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Seeking shelter from the storms,
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Is a purpose worth being broken for.
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Chances are we are the same;
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Against the odds, against the grain
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We lean, like gardens toward light.
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We reach with all of our might
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For such a noble aim as love.
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Noble Aim
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Sleeping At Last |