| Well, a robin flew by my window
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| I thought it just might be you
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| Judging from the color of its breast
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| And the sound of its song
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| But I’m just thinking of you
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| Cause you’re in sunny California
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| The fertile land, John Steinbeck wrote
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| When I came not a single fertile patch
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| Could be spared for you and me
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| You see, I wanted to love you, baby
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| Like neither you nor I’d been loved before
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| I thought I could change the world if I just held you high enough
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| Truth is, I couldn’t hold you up at all
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| I couldn’t hold you up
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| I couldn’t hold you up
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| And I sure ain’t gonna hold you down
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| Well, I’m leaving, walking back home
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| I don’t care if it takes years or more
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| But as I walk through the hills of Kentucky
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| The leaves begin to turn red
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| And I think of you
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| Yes, I think of you
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| The prettiest tree on the mountain |