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Casey was a good boy |
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He treated people well |
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And his momma loved him |
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Anyone could tell |
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She'd send him off to school |
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Pack his lunch with care |
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When he came back home she hugged him |
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With her fingers in his hair |
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Cindy, she loved Casey |
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And when all is said and done |
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She is every mother |
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And he was every mother's son |
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When Casey was a little older |
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He spent his time each week |
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In that church in Vacaville |
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In the service of the meek |
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In the service of his city |
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In the service of the lord |
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With his momma in the pews |
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All the time they could afford |
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And if their love alone could save us |
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Then the world would be one |
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She is every mother |
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And he was every mother's son |
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People thought the priesthood |
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Was where he'd someday be |
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So some folks were surprised |
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When he joined the army |
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The recruiter told him |
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He wouldn't have to fight |
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Cindy hoped this was the case |
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And prayed for him every night |
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That was before they sent him |
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To the desert with a gun |
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She is every mother |
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And he was every mother's son |
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His truck had no armor |
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And when it came under fire |
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It and half the soldiers in it |
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Became a funeral pyre |
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Cindy, she was sleeping |
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The moment Casey died |
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And she knew she'd never see him |
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Standing by her side |
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There was no consolation |
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No safe place she could run |
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She is every mother |
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And he was every mother's son |
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The president, he told her |
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He died for a noble cause |
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But Cindy's wondering |
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Exactly what that was |
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Since they never found the weapons |
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And now that Casey's gone |
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It seems that oil is the game |
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And Casey was the pawn |
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Cindy's got some questions |
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And so does everyone |
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Because she is every mother |
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And he was every mother's son |