| My little sister sings herself to sleep
|
| She doesn’t know we’re listening
|
| To her lullaby, so innocent and sweet
|
| I’ve rocked her cradle 'til her tears were dry
|
| And chased away a sleepless night
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| With a fairy-tale
|
| Reliving the best years of my life
|
| When I look into her eyes
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| And then I realize
|
| Everything she’s going through will be her memories
|
| When she’s older, and wiser
|
| She’s making her history
|
| And everything we’re going through will be our memories
|
| I’m going make them worth remembering
|
| For years. |
| .
|
| I’m gonna tell her when she wants to know
|
| But in the end she’s on her own
|
| No more fairy-tales
|
| Just giving the best years of her life
|
| As a mother or a wife
|
| A woman with a child
|
| Everything she’s going through will be her memories
|
| When she’s older, and wiser
|
| She’s making her history
|
| And everything we’re going through will be our memories
|
| I’m going make them worth remembering
|
| For years. |
| .
|
| Everything she’s going through will be her memories
|
| When she’s older, and wiser
|
| She’s making her history
|
| And everything we’re going through will be our memories
|
| I’m going make them worth remembering
|
| For years. |
| . |