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Surprise, surprise.
As soon as I try to control my life,
it slips away.
Surprise, surprise...
as soon as I open my eyes,
I lose my sight of what I thought I knew.

Well okay, fine.
Rip the science straight out of my mind!
Oh no... oh no you didn't.
Listen, if you're gonna introduce a new logic system,
I should really know about it way ahead of time.

'Cause I've built my life
around foresight,
in anticipation of all possible mistakes.
It's given me anxiety
and apathy,
the kind that something in me
is decidedly too terrified
to try and shake.

But what do you gain by locking horns with fate?
This is a pilgrimage you have to make,
or else eternally delay.

It seems some kind of inherited hate
is guarding the gate
to my childhood dreams...
memories forgotten
but not set free.

Maybe lost down a stream in a paper boat,
or hiding in the lining of an old coat,
somehow both defining you and unfindable too.

But here's the secret!
Here's the trick.
To meet that demon with a smile,
look him in the eyes,
comfort him awhile
and exchange gifts.

Home is a state of being.
Home is an iridescent feeling.
Home is the great deep healing.
Home is a faithful lady kneeling.
Home is an evergreen.
Home is a meaning machine.

Home is waiting patiently
and it wants you to come back.
What do you gain by second-guessing that?