| On a bus ride into town
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| I wondered out loud «Why am I going to town?»
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| And as I looked around at the billboards and the stores
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| I thought «Why do I look around?»
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| And I kissed the filthy ground
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| And in the first dry spot I found
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| And I didn’t have to wonder why I was laying down.
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| Before long I was too cold
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| Took a bus back to the station
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| I found a letter left by a pay phone
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| With no return contact
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| And it read like a horn blown by some sad angel
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| «Bunny, it was me… it was me who let you down»
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| It was the shyest attempt I’d ever seen at conversation
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| If I didn’t have You as my guide I’d still wander lost in Sinai,
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| Counting the plates of cars from out-of-state,
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| (how I could jump in their path as they hurry along!)
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| You surround me, you’re pretty but you’re all I can see,
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| like a thick fog — if there was no way into God,
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| I would never have laid in this grave of a body for so long.
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| And Bonner fair always came through the first week of September
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| But it’s already the 19th
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| And there’s no sign of it.
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| Yet I have a hard time
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| Remembering all the things that I should remember
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| And a hard time
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| Forgetting the all things that I am supposed forget.
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| Oh Christ when You’re ready to come back
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| I think I’m ready for You to come back
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| But if You want to stay wherever exactly it is You are,
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| That’s okay too — it’s really none of my business.
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| If I didn’t have You as my guide I’d still be wandering lost in Sinai
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| Or down by the tracks watching trains go by to remind me:
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| There are places that aren’t here.
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| I had a well but all the water left
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| So I’ll ask Your forgiveness with every breath,
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| If there was no way into God,
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| I would never have laid in this grave of a body for so long, dear. |