| Well I got a letter from a high school friend
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| Who I never really know that well, he wrote me
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| And the mothball letter on a blue and white sweater
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| From the Class of '65 got me planning, planning
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| Standing in a room full of faces (in a room), I knew them all
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| But I could not place the names with the faces
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| Now converstaion makes me nervous
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| I just smile and nod along
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| When it comes to telling stories, I could go on and on
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| I went downstars to straighten my tie
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| Laid on a table I chance to pass by were some stories
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| On some notebook paper from some high school friends
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| And they all had tales to tell
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| And they all sent pictures of their families
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| And the stories read so well
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| I just stood there and pretended I had something in my eye
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| And the tears fell on the letters
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| I had to, sorry we missed ya, maybe next time
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| Tell everyone I said hi, hi
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| From the Class of '65, hi
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| From the Class of '65, hi |