| Little red door on a pink house
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| Two bedrooms and four walls
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| Modest don’t quite sum it up
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| Green lino on the floor
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| Mom and dad hand in hand
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| And the tree I used to climb
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| On the bluff of Stanwell Park
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| Where the ocean meets the sky
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| Oh, I keep turning pages in my mind
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| I keep crossing paths and crossing lines
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| And I saw more
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| Than these doors and corridors
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| We’d go wandering with the dinosaurs
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| Singing with the whales
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| High on daddy’s shoulders
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| Grandpa’d tell us tales
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| Of whiskey faces, secret places
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| Where we could run and hide
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| We found a window to a world
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| That wasn’t my shape or my size
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| When I keep turning pages in my mind
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| I keep crossing paths and crossing lines
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| And I saw more
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| Than these doors and corridors
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| If I could say the words, I couldn’t
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| If I could change a thing, I wouldn’t
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| All of these doors and corridors
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| They brought me right here
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| Little white room with a blue light
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| Cold hands and paper cups
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| Snowflakes hope in hell they said
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| The only way is up
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| We said goodbye a thousand times
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| See you on the other side
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| Between this world and the next
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| A shallow breath a beating life
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| But I kept turning pages in my mind
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| I kept crossing paths and crossing lines
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| And I saw more
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| Than these doors and corridors
|
| Ooh, if I could say the words, I couldn’t
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| If I could change a thing, I wouldn’t
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| All of these doors and corridors
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| They brought me right here
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| I could have folded, but, I didn’t
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| I played the hand that I was given
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| They left me wanting so much more
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| And I’m gonna find them all I’m sure
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| Oh, I owe it all
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| To these doors and corridors |