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I don't keep much stuff around |
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I value my portability |
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But i will say that i have saved |
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Every letter you ever wrote to me |
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The one you left on my windsheild |
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Outside of that little motel |
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Is in the pocket of my old gigbag |
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From back when life was more soft shelled |
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Letters littered with little lewd pictures |
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Drawn by the ghost of woddy guthrie |
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Who would use your big thick hand |
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Just to draw one two for me |
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And i think of your letters as love letters |
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Which is how i think of songs |
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In that it is the writing of them |
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That tend to carry us along |
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And i dance to one of your old tunes |
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With my true love on our wedding day |
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And your voice sang the way my heart would sing |
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If it finally knew just what to say |
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Two people pulled over on the same night |
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To look up at the same stars |
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They both found their wheels were spinning |
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In a soft shoulder |
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When they got back into their cars |
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And they missed fate's appointed rendezvous |
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And then a whole lotta time went by |
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And finally they were done |
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Worshipping the landscape |
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And they put down their hands |
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And moved into the sky |
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And they had barely said hello |
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And it was time to say goodbye |
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Goodbye ............ |