| Josy was a near, dear friend of mine
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| She lived around the corner, across the street and through the parking lot
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| We’d sit and take a sip once in a while
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| With nowhere much to walk in town, we’d often sit and talk about her life
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| When Josy was a near, dear friend of mine
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| Cross-legged in the kitchen, then we’d giggle, cry, and rub our eyes
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| Seemed oblivious to us, the two who’d shine
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| With nothing pledged between us, then we’ve carried on and gone about our lives
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| This may hurt a little
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| This may hurt a little
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| This may hurt a little
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| When Josy hadn’t answered in a while
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| I’d wonder what’ll happen to the girl, it’s gone, it’s understood
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| The bits of revelation I’ve compiled
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| She’s broken all the secrets we’d made and packaged neatly in our minds
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| This may hurt a little
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| This may hurt a little
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| This may hurt a little
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| I don’t miss much of Josy
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| Much of the time
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| Though I know she’s feeling helpless most of the time
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| These days she may wonder what I’d done
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| I don’t miss much of Josy or what she’s become
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| This may hurt a little
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| Uh-huh
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| This may hurt a little
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| Uh-huh |