| I had to go back to that house one more time
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| To see if camellias were in bloom
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| For so many reasons it’s been on my mind
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| The house on Belmont Avenue
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| Built up on cinder blocks off of the ground
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| What with the rain and the soft swampy land
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| By the sweet honeysuckle that grew all around
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| Were switches when we were bad
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| I took a bus to Baton Rouge
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| I took a bus to Baton Rouge
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| All the front rooms were kept closed off
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| I never liked to go in there much
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| Sometimes the doors they’d be locked
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| 'Cause there were precious things that I couldn’t touch
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| Company couch covered in plastic
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| Books about being saved
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| The dining room table nobody ate at
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| The piano nobody played
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| I took a bus to Baton Rouge
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| I took a bus to Baton Rouge
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| There was this beautiful lamp I always loved
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| A seashore was painted on the shade
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| It would turn around when you switched on the bulb
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| And gently rock the waves
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| The driveway was covered with tiny white seashells
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| A fig tree stood in the backyard
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| There are other things I remember, as well
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| But to tell them would be just too hard
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| Ghosts in the wind that blow through my life
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| Follow me wherever I go
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| I’ll never be free from these chains inside
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| Hidden deep down in my soul
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| I took a bus to Baton Rouge
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| I took a bus to Baton Rouge
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| Yeah, I took a bus to Baton Rouge |