| There in a box on a shelf in its original frame
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| Her eyes so big, new and bright squint in the sun
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| He says aloud to himself, Why did I toss this away
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| With all those other things I collect to forget?
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| Surely a picture can’t lie
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| But, how time it does fly
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| From the day there in the sun
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| Until your saying 'goodbye'
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| The objects in the lost and found
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| Those things that fell from pocket to the ground
|
| The priceless and the practical
|
| Waiting 'till the ones who claim them come back around
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| She says to him, You think I, I was the last one to know
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| I could see what was to come long before you
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| I still remember that day
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| With so much left to say
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| And just watching the tides grow
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| It wasn’t so long ago
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| Remember on that empty beach we stayed there by the sea
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| The objects in the lost and found
|
| Those things that fell from pocket to the ground
|
| The priceless and the practical
|
| Waiting 'till the ones who claim them come back around |