| There’s a cardigan sweater on an old wooden hanger,
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| In the back of the closet at the end of the hall.
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| My grandfather wore it for thirty-five years, now he don’t wear it at all.
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| He sits in the shade at the end of his journey,
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| In a home for the tired, the old and confused.
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| So (tell me) where have they hidden the soul of the man I once knew?
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| Where is the giant who lived in his body?
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| Where is the mountain that he stood upon?
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| It’s hard to believe as I sit here and hold him,
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| How mountains will crumble and yesterday’s gone.
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| There’s a picture in Salem (faded old photo) of a dashing young cowboy
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| (soldier),
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| Dressed to the nines for a night on the town.
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| That’s him in the middle, surrounded by people who lit up when he came around.
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| So where are the angels sent down to protect him,
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| Am I all that’s left of his life?
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| Are we two hearts together, the young and the weary,
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| Fading one beat at a time?
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| There’s a corner in Heaven for callused old heroes,
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| A place where a good man can finally rest.
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| Paid for by promises, toil and tears,
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| By a soul who did only his best.
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| So we sit here together, knowin' that train’s a-coming,
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| And Heaven’s just one stop away.
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| I savor the gift of his hand on my shoulder,
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| Here at the end of the day.
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| Where is the giant who lived in his body?
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| Where is the mountain that he stood upon?
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| It’s hard to believe as I sit here and hold him,
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| How mountains will crumble and yesterday’s gone.
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| Oh, it’s hard to believe as I sit here and hold him,
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| How mountains will crumble and yesterday’s gone. |