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There grows a weed, looks like a flower |
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Looks like baby's breath on a mirror |
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My girl and |
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I rushed atop the altar |
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The sacrifice was made |
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It was not easy undertaking |
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The roots gripped soft like a living grave |
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Oh young girl at the wedding |
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Baby's breath in her hair |
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A crowning lace above her face |
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That will last a day |
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Before it turns to hay |
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I'd cut a clearing in the land |
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And for a little bed |
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For her to cry comfortable in |
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And each day |
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I looked out on the lawn |
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And I wondered what all was gone |
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Until I saw it was lucky old me |
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How could |
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I run without losing anything? |
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How could |
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I run without becoming lean? |
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It was agreed, it was agreed |
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It was me tearing out the baby's breath |
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Oh I am a helpless man, so help me |
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I'm on my knees gardening |
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It was not a weed, it was a flower |
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My baby's gone, oh where has my baby gone? |
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And she was not a weed, she was a flower |
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And now I know you must reap what you sow, or sing |