| Every generation
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| Blames the one before
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| And all of their frustrations
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| Come beating on your door
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| I know that I’m a prisoner
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| To all my Father held so dear
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| I know that I’m a hostage
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| To all his hopes and fears
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| I just wish I could have told him in the living years
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| Crumpled bits of paper
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| Filled with imperfect thought
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| Stilted conversations
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| I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got
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| You say you just don’t see it
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| He says it’s perfect sense
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| You just can’t get agreement
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| In this present tense
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| We all talk a different language
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| Talking in defense
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| Say it loud, say it clear
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| You can listen as well as you hear
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| It’s too late when we die
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| To admit we don’t see eye to eye
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| So we open up a quarrel
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| Between the present and the past
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| We only sacrifice the future
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| It’s the bitterness that lasts
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| So Don’t yield to the fortunes
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| You sometimes see as fate
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| It may have a new perspective
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| On a different day
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| And if you don’t give up, and don’t give in
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| You may just be O. K
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| Say it loud, say it clear
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| You can listen as well as you hear
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| It’s too late when we die
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| To admit we don’t see eye to eye
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| I wasn’t there that morning
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| When my Father passed away
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| I didn’t get to tell him
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| All the things I had to say
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| I think I caught his spirit
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| Later that same year
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| I’m sure I heard his echo
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| In my baby’s new born tears
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| I just wish I could have told him in the living years
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| Say it loud, say it clear
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| You can listen as well as you hear
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| It’s too late when we die
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| To admit we don’t see eye to eye |