| And I wake up in the mornin'
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| With my hair down in my eyes and she says, «Hi»
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| And I stumble to the breakfast table
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| While the kids are goin' off to school… goodbye
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| And she reaches out and takes my hand
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| And squeezes it and says, «How ya feelin', hon?»
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| And I look across at smilin' lips
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| That warm my heart and see my mornin' sun
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| And if that’s not lovin' me Then all I’ve got to say
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| God didn’t make little green apples
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| And it don’t rain in Indianapolis in the summertime
|
| And there’s no such thing as Doctor Seuss
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| Or Disneyland, and Mother Goose, no nursery rhyme
|
| God didn’t make little green apples
|
| And it don’t rain in Indianapolis in the summertime
|
| And when myself is feelin' low
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| I think about her face aglow and ease my mind
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| Sometimes I call her up at home knowin' she’s busy
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| And ask her if she could get away and meet me And maybe we could grab a bite to eat
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| And she drops what she’s doin' and she hurries down to meet me And I’m always late
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| But she sits waitin' patiently and smiles when she first sees me
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| 'Cause she’s made that way
|
| And if that ain’t lovin' me Then all I’ve got to say
|
| God didn’t make little green apples
|
| And it don’t snow in Minneapolis when the winter comes
|
| And there’s no such thing as make-believe
|
| Puppy dogs, autumn leaves and BB guns
|
| God didn’t make little green apples
|
| And it don’t rain in Indianapolis |