| By the time you were born there were four other siblings
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| with your Mama awaiting your Daddy in jail
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| Your oldest brother was away at a home
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| and You didn’t meet him til you was nineteen years old
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| Old enough to know better, old enough to know better
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| but you took to his jaw line and long sandy hair
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| How he made you feel like none off the others
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| and the way he looked at you touched you deep down in there.
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| So you jumped on his bike and rode into the sunset
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| but the sequel it started with the next morning sun
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| and the dew on the bike seat and you all a glow
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| from the love he put in you and a life on the run.
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| Now, the District Attorney said He might of forgiven
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| You had lots of reasons to turn out this way
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| But He’ll throw you in jail for them four little babies
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| you made and delivered along the way
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| Last night you had a dream about a Lord so forgiving
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| He might show compassion for a heathen he damned
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| You awoke in a jail cell, alone and so lonely
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| Seven years in Michigan |