| A lonely yellow light gets swallowed
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| By the morning in New Hampshire
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| And casts a shadow on the pavement
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| Where we used to walk together
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| Put in a small town made of hills and trees
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| And these dream’s all you’ve got to believe
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| This is what you dream
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| I know she will make it, somehow
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| 'Cause she is from New Hampshire
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| She said, she wants to see it all
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| Putting on her make-up
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| She is making her last telephone call
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| She says, she’s leaving me now
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| My eyes are following the lines
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| That lead away from New Hampshire
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| 'Cause she’s gone out of view
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| And taken with her clarity and laughter
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| Put in a big town made of hard and scary things
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| All you’ve got to believe
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| In is what you dream
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| I know she will make it, somehow
|
| 'Cause she is from New Hampshire
|
| She said, she wants to see it all
|
| Putting on her make-up
|
| She is making her last telephone call
|
| She says, she’s leaving
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| Why is growing up so bad for love?
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| It takes us further from what means the most to me
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| The most in us has gone away
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| But she is from New Hampshire
|
| She said, she wants to see it all
|
| Putting on her make-up
|
| She is making her last telephone call
|
| She says, she’s leaving me now
|
| She says, she’s leaving me now
|
| She says, she’s leaving me now
|
| New Hampshire
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| New Hampshire |