In the middle of a slope that continues toward tomorrow
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The adults passing by murmur to themselves
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"I understand love, and dreams and ideals too,
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But the reality in front of us isn't that sweet," they say.
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Even as we stumble and roll
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I don't want to forget the passion full of scabs
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Hear one of our "can't grow up" bravado
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We're not running or hiding, so those who want to laugh, laugh
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At least don't pluck the shoots of our unreliable freedom
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Then isn't it enough to fulfill the duty of watering it?
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The failures we've repeated over and over
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And the ideas that have clashed greatly
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Our standards are very uncertain
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Somehow our stride is wider than yesterday
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While reaching up and being knocked about
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I peel off a few scabs, but no answer comes
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Hear one of our selfish wishes to become adults
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Even when we sleep or wake, slow the time that binds us just a little
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At least don't snip the fruit of our feeble freedom
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Until that red moment ripens, should we worry, right?
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Hear one of our "can't grow up" bravado
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We're not running or hiding, so let those who want to laugh, laugh
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At least don't pluck the shoots of our unreliable freedom
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Then isn't it enough to fulfill the duty of watering it?
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