| I still see my brother Michael
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| Pressed and polished, shaking hands down at the store
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| Everyone had come to see the all-star hop the greyhound bus and go to war
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| He punched me in the arm to say goodbye
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| It was the first time that I saw our father cry
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| I kept all my brother’s letters tied in ribbon in a box beneath my bed
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| Every night I read by flashlight with the covers in a tent above my head
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| His words said «Not to worry, doing fine»
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| It was his way of trying to ease my mind
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| While I was trying not to read between the lines
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| The weight of the world, too heavy to lift
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| So much to lose, so much to miss
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| It doesn’t seem fair that an innocent boy
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| Should have to carry the weight of the world
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| Then it was football games and homecoming and
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| Picking out our dresses for the prom
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| With my brother in some desert dodging bullets when he wasn’t dodging bombs
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| While we went from the land of brave and free
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| To just being afraid to disagree
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| While I was being brought down to my knees by
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| The weight of the world, too heavy to lift
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| So much to lose, so much to miss
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| It doesn’t seem fair that an innocent boy
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| Should have to carry the weight of the world
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| It was the middle of December when the Army sent my brother home at last
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| While the flagpole by the football field flew the colors half-way down the mast
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| The wind blew cold and snow was coming down
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| Still everybody turned out from our town
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| As we laid my brother in that frozen ground
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| The weight of the world, too heavy to lift
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| So much was lost, so much was missed
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| It doesn’t seem fair that any boy or any girl
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| Should have to carry the weight of the world |