| Bending over, pickin stones
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| They grow with every fallow
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| If I had the time I d rest my bones
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| In the water
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| And I ve laid many a tear on this land
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| And I ve buried them with my children
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| So when I die won t you lay me in the clay
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| Right here, where I can hold them
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| If you come by the day, If you come by the night
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| You’ll see I’m not ready to give up this fight
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| If you come by my door, you ll find it open
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| And my blessed hands will be unbroken
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| I ve seen many seasons pass in this valley
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| Rollin like the thunder
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| And of all the tools I ve ever know
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| These hands hold my spirit and wonder
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| They re callused and stained and they show the time
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| Not the future but the past
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| On them I see the fight that remains
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| And I’m ready for the test
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| If you come by the day, If you come by the night
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| You’ll see I’m not ready to give up this fight
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| If you come by my door, you ll find it open
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| And my blessed hands will be unbroken |