| Young woman with a child
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| Living all alone
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| On a hot night in the summer
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| With the television on
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| «Goodnight Mama»
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| Says the child
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| From a crib by the tv
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| And the woman washes two plates and cups
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| 'til they are way past clean
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| And the blue flares of the tv screen-
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| Heat lightening, inside and out
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| Oh, it gets lonely in a small town
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| When midnight, rolls around
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| An old woman at her sewing
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| By a rusty oil stove
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| The snow has covered everything
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| The years have covered love
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| Oh, they buried him two years ago
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| In six feet of black dirt
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| She lives in just one room now-
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| She’s still mending his shirts
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| And the white flares of the memories-
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| Moonlight, inside and out
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| Oh, it gets lonely, in a small town
|
| When midnight, rolls around
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| Way out at the edge of town
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| Looking at the flat lands
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| You can’t help but wonder if he’s still got
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| The whole world in his hands
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| Oh, there seems to be so much more sky
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| Every evening and morn
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| And the only song you ever hear
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| Is the crickets in the corn
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| And the red flares of the sunset-
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| One more day, falling down
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| Oh, it gets lonely in a small town
|
| When midnight, rolls around
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| Yeah, it gets lonely in a small town
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| When midnight, rolls around |