| I don’t know if I can let it go
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| My fingers clenched white as snow
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| You packed your world in a wooden suitcase
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| What you left behind time can’t erase
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| We spent 52 years giving all we had
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| Raised seven kids on that plot of land
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| There’s still your loose change and your buttons on your washing stand
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| You left one big house for this lonely man
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| I miss holding your hands on Sunday
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| Talking over the TV
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| Watching the braves games
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| And I know that the good lord called you up yonder
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| I guess what they say is true
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| Cause your absence makes this weary heart grow fonder
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| I found your old cook books but the biscuits ain’t right
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| And how do you work this damn coffee pot
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| All my shirt tails are wrinkled, and bed is still made
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| Cause your smell still lingers on where you laid
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| I hung up all your dresses and the dogs they’re doing fine
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| I can’t remember the brand you used to buy
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| Molly got her braces off and she smiles so big
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| Davie is still as skinny as a whittled old twig
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| I miss holding your hands on Sundays
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| Talking over the TV
|
| Watching the braves games
|
| And I know that the good lord called you up yonder
|
| I guess what they say is true
|
| Cause your absence makes this weary heart grow fonder
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| Well I miss holding your hands on Sundays
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| Talking over the TV
|
| Watching the braves games
|
| And I know that the good lord called you up yonder
|
| I guess what they say is true
|
| Cause your absence makes this weary heart grow fonder
|
| Jason and Margaret they’re expecting one more
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| You’d be happy to know I fixed that cabinet door |