| I was thinking 'bout you, crossing Southern Alberta
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| Canola fields on a July day
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| Are about the same chartreuse as that sixty-nine bug
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| You used to drive around San Jose
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| You never knew where my old white Lincoln might take you
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| Party on wheels with suicide doors
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| Bring the kids and the dogs and your grandma too
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| We always had room for more
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| Til that white-knuckle ride back from Santa Cruz
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| Second-best surfer on the central coast
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| Had you wrapped up all the way back to Los Gatos
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| And I could’ve cut his throat
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| And it wasn’t like we were an item to start with
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| It had no basis in fact
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| But the whiskey could push me to sudden extremes
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| I don’t want to think about that, I don’t want to think about that
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| Take my hand Marie
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| Take a death grip on some part of me
|
| Keep me from drifting far out to sea
|
| Or I’ll be lost out there
|
| We all drifted away with the days getting shorter
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| Seeking our place in the greater scheme
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| Kids and careers and a vague sense of order
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| Busting apart at the seams
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| I heard you switched coasts, moved in with your sister
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| I doubt you’d have called it familial bliss
|
| We met up in Brooklyn before it went hipster
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| You carried your keys in your fist
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| In a way back corner of a cross-town bus
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| We were hiding out under my hat
|
| Cashing in on a thirty-year crush
|
| You can’t be young and do that
|
| You can’t be young and do that
|
| Take my hand Marie
|
| Take a death grip on some part of me
|
| Keep me from drifting far out to sea
|
| Or I’ll be lost out there
|
| I’ll be lost out there
|
| I was thinking 'bout you crossing Southern Alberta
|
| Canola fields at harvest time
|
| Look like tumbleweeds all raked up into rows
|
| Brown rusty contour lines
|
| And there’s not much moving on the romance radar
|
| Not that I’m craving it all that much
|
| But I still need to feel every once in a while
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| The warmth of a smile and a touch
|
| And in a way back corner of a cross-town bus
|
| We were hiding out under my hat
|
| Cashing in on a thirty-year crush
|
| You can’t be young and do that
|
| You can’t be young and do that
|
| You can’t be young and do that
|
| You can’t be young and do that
|
| Take my hand Marie
|
| Take a death grip on some part of me
|
| Keep me from drifting far out to sea
|
| Or I’ll be lost out there
|
| I’ll be lost out there
|
| I’ll be lost out there |