| There’s a chill on this evening, nights right for greaving,
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| Darkness surrounds him as he wanders alone
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| He walked past the dim lights, the pathways and street lights
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| They remind him, of nights long ago,
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| When his love was strong and his muscles hard, His whiskey throat was barley
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| marred,
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| Seeking misfortune in the lies that he told, Then a brokin heart bought him to his knees,
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| In the hour of his greatest need, Lost and forsaken by the love,
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| he could not hold
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| On the Border line of love again, Its bound to make you pay
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| On the Border line, we’ll make our stand, Then watch it fall away
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| And he stands in quiet solitude, The nights reflects upon his mood,
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| Seeking the vision that had once been so clear, When he felt the touch of his
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| women’s love
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| His pounding heart was warm and young, Now locked inside him with his anger and
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| fear
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| As he moves on slowly, past the trees, Down the path way home through fallen
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| leaves
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| He can’t believe, how he’d sunken so low, So he learned to live with his
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| injured pride
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| His purple heart hidden, deep inside, The only reward, for a love he could not
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| hold |