| Cap & gown in purple & gold
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| You’re 22 years old & a woman now you’re told
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| Aunt Beth & Charlie cut a check for the graduating niece
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| & you marked your independence with a signature on a lease
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| But home was a photograph you taped to your wall
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| It’s gonna be a cold white Christmas in St Paul
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| Beer for breakfast who’s gonna scold
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| You’ve got your early hours dulled by the cigarettes you rolled
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| Second shift as a fry cook that’s your holiday in grease
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| & you trudge to work through the snow in a coat down to your knees
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| & you linger at the twinkle lights as you pass by the mall
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| & count the days to a cold white Christmas in St Paul
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| Feather down the nights get so cold
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| & you ignore the smell of mold as you smooth out the folds
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| When you’re on your own you’ve got no one to please
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| In a Minnesota city just as bare & as mean as the winter trees
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| But you’ll be damned if you’re the one making collect calls
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| On a cold white Christmas in St Paul
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| Yeah it’s a cold white Christmas in St Paul |