| Lost my luggage in Kalamazoo
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| Same way I tend to lose my conscience, too
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| Another day in these dirty old blues, and I don’t seem to mind
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| This is a thing that confounds me
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| You can find me; |
| You surround and remind me
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| I lose my way and I forget about You
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| But You still remember me
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| Isn’t it love?
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| The rain that falls on the sinner and the saint
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| Isn’t it love?
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| The well that won’t run dry
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| Isn’t it love?
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| These mercies are made new every morning
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| And when I think about that prodigal son
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| I’ve got to smile when I see the old man run
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| And I know that You love us the same
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| 'cause the sun came up today
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| Just as if we deserved it
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| Just as if every one of us fools was worth it
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| Truth is that we’ll never be perfect, but You love us just the same
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| Isn’t it love?
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| This ran that falls on the sinner and the saint
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| Isn’t it love?
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| This well that won’t run dry
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| Isn’t it love?
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| These mercies are made new every morning
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| Isn’t it love to look down from the sky
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| And see Your only Son on the cross asking why
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| And somehow let Him die that way
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| And not call the whole thing off
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| All for a man here in Kalamazoo
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| Who loses his bags and his way sometimes too
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| But that was something that You already knew
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| And still You died for me |