| I don’t keep much stuff around
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| I value my portability
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| But i will say that i have saved
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| Every letter you ever wrote to me
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| The one you left on my windshield
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| Outside of that little motel
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| Is in the pocket of my old gig bag
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| From back when life was more soft shell
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| Letters littered with little lewd pictures
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| Drawn by the ghost of woody guthrie
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| Who would use you big thick hand
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| Just to draw one or two for me
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| I think of your letters as love letters
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| Which is how i think of songs
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| In that it is the writing of them
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| That tends to carry us along
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| And i danced to one of your old tunes
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| With my true love on our wedding day
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| And you voice sang the way my heart would sing
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| If it finally knew just what to say
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| Two people pulled over on the same night
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| To look up at the same stars
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| They both found their wheels were spinning
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| In a soft shoulder
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| When they both got back into their cars
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| And they missed fates appointed rendezvous
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| And then a whole lotta time wnet by
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| And then one day they were done
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| Worshipping the landscape
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| And they just put down their hands
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| And moved into the sky
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| They had barely said hello and it was time to say goodbye |