| You cleaned out your room
|
| And under your bed
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| Lay a picture long forgotten
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| With a hand to your head
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| You sigh out loud
|
| As the memory rushes over
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| And buries you
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| A summer rain storm
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| But the shed was dry
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| With a girl from Carolina
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| And you held her so tight
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| For the warmth that the rain denied
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| As the timer slowed to a flash
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| So alive, you listen to them when they say
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| Cry in the sun
|
| When the devil beats his wife
|
| If you cry, cry, cry in the sun
|
| Hope I never see the price of my freedom
|
| Yeah
|
| We’d dance and sing out
|
| And trace the moon
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| As it crawled across the night sky
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| And covered in dew, a lover’s pact
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| Well, here’s to now and don’t look back
|
| And oh, how I tried
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| To heed the words written here
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| Cry in the sun
|
| When the devil beats his wife
|
| If you cry, cry, cry in the sun
|
| Hope I never see the price of my freedom
|
| Ooh, yeah
|
| For everyone one, yeah
|
| There’s a person, place or time
|
| That brings you back, and makes you feel alive
|
| Before your reason clouds your eyes
|
| When you could rule the world, if you wanted to
|
| Yeah
|
| Well, I hear you’re living
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| Far away
|
| And that life’s treated you well
|
| You know that we were young, and this picture’s old
|
| But I call still hear you say
|
| Through the pounding of the rain
|
| And oh, if you try
|
| Tell me, can you hear them say
|
| Cry in the sun
|
| When the devil beats his wife
|
| If you cry, cry, cry in the sun
|
| Hope I never see the price of my freedom
|
| Hope I never see the price of my freedom
|
| Ooh, yeah |