| It was so late and she’d be sleeping
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| He came through her home town
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| With the moonlight on the crossroads
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| And the green light shining down
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| And the bell at the railroad crossing
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| And the horn from far away
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| And his Silver Eagle passing
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| Half a mile from where she lay
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| At his feet a sea of faces
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| Make devotions with their love
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| Clap their hands and plead their cases
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| Call for blessings from above
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| Like the rolling waves forever massing
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| To crash and foam and creep away
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| And the Silver Eagle passing
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| Half a mile from where she lay
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| Road signs flow into the headlights
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| Whisper names and fall behind
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| He finds some honor in the darkness
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| Hopes for grace and peace of mind
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| And he thinks of how they’d lay together
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| He’d run his fingers through her hair
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| And he wonders if she’ll ever
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| Come to know that he was there |