| Oh, the first of August
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| Lying on the cold leaf ground
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| Coming out of focus
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| Colors slowly breaking down
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| Down the road
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| You’ve been drawing, pictures of
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| Where you go with the sweet wind
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| There’ll be trees there that you know
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| So careful, not to harm them
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| Show them, make a letter home
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| Down the road
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| Where you shining
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| I’ve seen at the fork
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| Momma knows you’ve gotta go, son
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| Sister’s gonna miss when you go
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| Down the road
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| You’ve been drawing, line by line
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| And the cold wind has been riding you
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| Riding you down
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| And if it wears harder
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| Still steps in a winding dark
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| There is music, that you’re raising
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| And you’re own, little baby
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| Is waiting, and oh, to think
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| That you were right
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| And don’t you think, that you were right
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| Momma knows you’ve gotta go, son
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| Sister’s gonna miss you, when you go
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| See the sun on the other side
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| On the first August |