| A baby in a restaurant
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| So tiny her head fit into her father’s hand
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| And as he looked into her eyes she smiled
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| Not bothered by the loudness of the live rock n' roll band
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| And as I watched them both
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| I longed to cradle you in my arms again
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| All I could really think of
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| Was that I longed to hold my babies
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| A little later that same night
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| A child of eight or nine entered the dining room
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| She had the pale, poetic grace of that age
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| She was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes from closing
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| And as I watched her older sister lay her down between two chairs to sleep
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| All that I was thinking was that I wanted to hold my babies
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| Looking at photographs
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| Watching you grow before my eyes
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| Remembering the moments the instant before the camera saw them
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| And as I smile at all the times we shared
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| I’m reminded of all the in between
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| Christ, how I miss you, both then and now, my babies
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| I longed to hold you in my arms, to know you’re by my side
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| To feel your little hands in mine, to look into trusting eyes
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| I longed to be your daddy
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| Felt guilty for not being there for you
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| Oh, how I miss you, my babies |