Ten years
Ara macao
I heard the voice of God come through me
And tell me, son, what's your excuse?
You have your health, your friends, your money
Some people barely make the news
And tell me, son, what's your excuse?
You have your health, your friends, your money
Some people barely make the news
And it dawned on me that there
Are bigger deals than love
But pain does not discriminate
it's all from above
I can't make you stay
Guess I'll have to wait
'Til I find someone that's just like you
Who can read my mind
Never let me hide
And then she will probably break me too
It's bigger than me
Walk, talk, play, fuck, make a scene
It's bigger than me
Treat this fever with a drink
I heard the voice of God come through me
And tell me, son, you're on your own
How could I heal you from this fever
When there are people left without a home?
And even if both move on
Could we meet in ten years
And talk about home?
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