Every tree has got a root, 
and every girl forbidden fruit, and got her demons. 
And the path I chose to go, a different girl so long ago — 
I had my reasons. 
And she’s in my head so loud, screaming, 
Shouldn’t you be proud of what you came from? 
Oh you’ve been crippled and you’ve walked on, 
you’ve been shut up and you talked, 
so let’s talk some more. 
 
Where is the hand for me to reach? 
Where is the moral I’ll ever teach myself? 
In all the black, in all the grief, 
I am redeemed. 
 
And it’s ripping at my heart because I’m dodging all the darts 
and on a slow train. 
And then I’ll wear it ‘til it tatters and it shatters on the floor 
in instant replay. 
Oh, we’re all rotten and we’re pure 
and we’re just looking for the cure that feels like spring snow. 
And all we have is who we are, and where we’ve been got us this far 
so let me go. 
 
Where is the hand for me to reach? 
Where is the moral I’ll never teach myself? 
In all the black, in all the grief, 
I am redeemed. 
 
Where is the hand for me to reach? 
Where is the moral I’ll never teach myself? 
In all the black, in all the grief 
through all the pain, and unbelief 
These are the words, that they all scream: 
I am redeemed.

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