| I’m sitting here looking at this old canvas
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| And the picture looks so different from you
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| Yes it does
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| Maybe it’s time to go back to the drawing board
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| Cause it’s likely that the man I drew is fictional
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| It’s possible I dream such a thing that’s so far away
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| And the flame that you bring is warming up
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| It’s possible we all want a dream that’s so far away
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| And my white picket dreams are home enough
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| I’m lying in the dark but it’s pitch bright
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| Cause this yellow in my soul and it raise, it brings me hope
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| I figured I’d be married young with two offspring
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| But this timing and me don’t wait for you to carry on
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| So I wait for the, day for the day
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| When this frame shows a face, gives a name and you say
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| That you will, it’s your will, we can build, we can still see it
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| It’s possible I dream such a thing that’s so far away
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| And the flame that you bring is warming up
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| It’s possible we all want a dream that’s so far away
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| And my white picket dreams are home enough
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| And you know I want that baby
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| What you do, keep on bringing me joy
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| And you know we’ll have that baby
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| I give you that picture hun and so much more
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| And you know I want that baby
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| And you know we’ll have that baby
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| That white picket dream we’ll paint it
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| The house on the hills with our name on the door
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| And you know I want that baby
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| And you know we’ll have that baby
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| That white picket dream of mine will show me how it was in no time
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| It’s possible I dream such a thing that’s so far away
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| And the flame that you bring is warming up
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| It’s possible we all want a dream that’s so far away
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| And my white picket dreams are home enough |