| Dear Heavenly Father
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| What have I done
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| Used to have it all
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| Now I’m left with none
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| The Great State of Georgia
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| Took the farm away
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| Because of the bills
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| That I could not pay
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| My family’s name has been here
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| Since 1833
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| A hundred years of sweat and blood
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| Handed down to me
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| Said every day I work these fields
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| And every night I pray
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| The rain, the rain don’t ever come
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| And I doubt it’s on the way
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| So what will I do when all else fails?
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| What will I do when no water’s in the well
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| And what will I do when there’s nothing left to sell
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| Oh, what will I do? |
| Only time will tell
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| I hear there’s work in Richmond
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| And some in New Orleans
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| But outside that Clarke County line
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| Is a world I’ve never seen
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| The paper say that the times are tough
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| And money’s running low
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| But the bottom doesn’t look so bad
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| When the bottom’s all you know
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| So what will I do when all else fails?
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| What will I do when no water’s in the well
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| And what will I do when there’s nothing left to sell
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| Oh, what will I do? |
| Only time will tell
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| Dear Heavenly Father
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| I’ve come before you now
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| A bottle’s in my left hand
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| A pistol’s to my brow
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| The preacher says salvation
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| Will cleanse all my bad deeds
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| But I could never forgive myself
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| For failing my family
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| So what will I do when all else fails?
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| What will I do when no water’s in the well
|
| And what will I do when there’s nothing left to sell
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| Oh, what will I do? |
| Only time will tell |