| The wind changed, the first day that you came through
|
| Cut the corn, washed it clean
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| Now everything that’s ever gone before, is like a blur
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| And it’s all because of you
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| And now I find, this city’s like a stranger to me
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| I once was fooled by Cadillac’s and honey
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| But no one feels like you
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| Not like you
|
| Not like you
|
| Not like you
|
| Cause even though the flower fades something takes its place
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| A marching band on a sunny day, two pretty eyes or a a pretty face
|
| And in the forest I make my home
|
| Lay down my heart on an ancient stone
|
| And if my heart should somehow stop
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| I’ll hang on to the hope
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| That you’re not too late
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| That you’re not too late
|
| And there are times I know when I will have to chase you
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| And the further from my side you go, the longing grows
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| And I will hate it, I still want you,
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| Cause I will hate it, but I still want you around
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| Cause even when the flower dies something’s by its side
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| A helping hand or a kiss goodbye, to ease it on its way
|
| And in the forest I make my home
|
| Lay down my heart on an ancient stone
|
| And if my heart should somehow stop
|
| I’ll hang on to the hope
|
| You’re not too late
|
| Not too late, no no
|
| And in the forest I make my home
|
| Lay down my heart on an ancient stone
|
| And if my heart should somehow stop
|
| I’ll hang on to the hope
|
| That you’re not too late
|
| That you’re not too late |