| My favorite memories are some of my first
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| Like a Sunday night meetin' at an old country church
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| Sometimes my grandparents would come and take me
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| To an old country church house on Gaylor Creek
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| We all knew our neighbors, everyone there was friends
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| And the preacher worked the timber like all other men
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| We were baptized by water, we were washed in the blood
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| I don’t remember much money but recall lots of love
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| That church was a long time ago: I’m talkin' distance and years
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| I’m not for certain that I could even get there from here
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| But on nights when I’m sober and not blinded by all that I see
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| My mind washes up at that church on Gaylor Creek
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| So many barrooms, so many strangers
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| Women, whiskey, so many dangers
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| That old honky tonk highway, that’s a wild horse to rope
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| Son, I’ve seen enough neon to circle the globe
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| That church was a long time ago: I’m talkin' distance and years
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| I’m not for certain that I could even get there from here
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| But on nights when I’m sober and not blinded by all that I see
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| My mind washes up at that church on Gaylor Creek
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| My mind washes up at that church on Gaylor Creek |