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We will facing the sun, waiting for these tings to come
We smiling high watching the good things passing by
Pretend the feeling fine, but inside we're crying sometimes
It ain't what it seems, nothing but a dream
And the faces get void and the lights getting thin
And the roads become uneven, so we don't know where we've been And those who doubt us, will soon believe
We are never supposed to win or even to achieve.
