| I’d watch that little glass angel swinging from the mirror every morning as I
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| sat in the back
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| Momma drove that beat-up laser through the woods and over those railroad tracks
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| We didn’t get much to eat at home, at school maybe nothing at all
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| When you’re a kid at twelve years old, you’d think it’s all your fault
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| Ooh
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| Mama’d lost my dad in her mind and married a crazy man
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| He beat us with a Bible while preaching survival and waiting for the world to
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| end
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| In that creepy cold house off the grid by the tracks at the end of the road
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| We got good at keeping secrets, mom
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| And no one wanted to know
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| Cuz sometimes God sends a whisper
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| Carried in on the rain
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| And when we don’t want to listen
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| Sometimes God sends a train
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| Ooh, ooh
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| One morning in high school history class, a chill ran down my back
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| When they called my name on the intercom, I already knew it was bad
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| They said her blazer was in pieces out there on those railroad tracks
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| As I went to see what was left of her, I wonder would this bring her back
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| Cuz sometimes God sends a whisper |
| Carried in on the rain
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| And when we don’t want to listen
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| Sometimes God sends a train
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| Ooh, ooh
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| They said she’d never walk again but that first step she took was straight down
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| to the courthouse, she got rid of his ass for good
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| One day we got a visitor, it was that train engineer
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| He told us kids «There must be a good reason your mom’s still here,»
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| He said. |
| «Ma'am I found this on that day, stuck to the front of my train.»
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| He handed my mom a glass angel with a broken wing
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| Cuz sometimes God sends a whisper
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| Carried in on the rain
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| And when we don’t want to listen
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| Sometimes God sends a train
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| Ooh, ooh |