| In the lamp light on Locust Street, with the party far behind
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| No sound but the beat of her heart and mine
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| The smell of her hair was my first breath, and her lips were my first kiss
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| And my first step was a headlong dive
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| I couldn’t keep myself from falling, so she taught me to fly
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| And I was born in the summer of '75
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| In the morning light she wore my coat, and all I wanted to know
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| Was she trembling from the feeling or the cold
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| As the sleepy small town came to life, I saw the answer in her eyes
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| And knew I’d always have her hand to hold
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| Now somethings don’t need saying, you just feel 'em deep inside
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| The way I felt in the summer of '75
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| Now all that seems like yesterday, how the time slips away
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| The blinding speed will leave you feeling cold
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| So when I feel the hands of time tugging at this life of mine
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| I reach for the warmest thing to hold
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| A light still shines on Locust Street, somewhere back in time
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| And I wake up to the beat of her heart and mine
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| And I reach out and touch her hair, just to know that she’s still there
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| And the dream I had is still by my side
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| I might not make church on Sunday, but I thank the Lord each night
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| That I was born in the summer of '75
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| Yeah, I was born in the summer of '75 |