A little shade will grow into a tree
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Leaving us in wonder as it sleeps
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Who on Earth can fathom, who on Earth can know?
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You are but a thought in your maker's eyes
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And I may not always believe
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But you're nothing short of a miracle
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Feeble, tiny hands bound for greatness
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You will rise and fall like the rest of us
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Love will keep you up, and always be the crutch
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That will see you through to the very last
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And I may not always believe
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But you're nothing short of a miracle
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Clever minds will second guess
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But to me, you're a living miracle
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Something else comes over me
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Grace has come to set me free
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In your hands, you hold a new forever
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We may not always believe
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Past which side we really see
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Pride and lust is our disease
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And the cure is you, little miracle
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Miracle
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The Temper Trap |