| I drove you home that autumn day.
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| To your mother´s house.
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| The paint was old,
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| The dogs were barking.
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| I sat upon the rug.
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| Oh, I think of you sometimes,
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| Of the snow, and that Colorado winter blue.
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| Your eyes were green,
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| your skin was darker,
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| than the colour of my own.
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| We took a shower in the dark.
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| Your mother wasn´t home.
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| Oh, I think of you sometimes.
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| Of the snow, and that Colorado winter blue.
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| We watched the sunrise over town,
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| from your neightboor’s roof
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| I remember taking photographs
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| In the colder sack.
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| Oh, I think of you sometimes.
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| Of the snow, and that Colorado winter blue.
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| Then you intimist (?),
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| And said her name,
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| I read between the lines
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| I called a plane to Denver,
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| Your eyes had turned to stone
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| From that colder appartement window
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| I saw you fade into the snow
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| When you left me for her ohohoh,
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| You left me in the snow
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| When you left me for her ohohoh,
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| You left me in the snow
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| (Merci à Gaël pour cettes paroles) |