| I was headed north on Highway 5
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| On a starlit Sunday night
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| When a pick-up truck flew by me out of control
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| As I watched in my headlights,
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| He swerved left and then back right
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| Never hit the brakes as he left the road
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| I found him lying in the grass among steel and glass
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| With an empty whiskey bottle by his side
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| Through the blood and tears, he whispered in my ear
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| A few last words just before he died
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| And he said, «Don't tell mama I was drinking
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| Cause Lord knows that her soul would never rest
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| Now I can’t leave this world with my mama thinking
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| That I met the Lord with whiskey on my breath»
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| I still think about that night
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| And how that young man died
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| And how others sometimes pay for our mistakes
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| Well the last thing on his mind
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| As he left this world behind
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| Was knowing someone else’s heart would break
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| And he said, «Don't tell mama I was drinking
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| Cause Lord knows that her soul would never rest
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| Now I can’t leave this world with my mama thinking
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| That I met the Lord with whiskey on my breath»
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| «Don't tell mama I was drinking
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| Cause Lord knows that her soul would never rest
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| Now I can’t leave this world with my mama thinking
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| That I met the Lord with whiskey on my breath
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| That I met the Lord with whiskey on my breath» |