| Do you remember the longest summer day
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| The days above the clay
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| The hours we would waste away
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| And the sounds
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| And the sounds that we’d surround the outskirts of this town
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| So what was up would not fall down
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| You’re holding on to what’s dead and gone
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| It’s not an angel not a satellite that makes you want to keep on singing
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| You’re holding on to what’s dead and gone
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| It doesn’t take the push of marketing to act like there is no tomorrow
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| I know it’s nostalgia that is sharpening my wit
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| It picks the hairs I choose to split
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| The perspective that I’m parting with
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| But in this town
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| In this town where laughter drowns
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| We put our best friends in the ground
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| So what was lost cannot be found
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| You’re holding on to what’s dead and gone
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| It’s not an angel not a satellite that makes you want to keep on singing
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| You’re holding on to what’s dead and gone
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| It doesn’t take the push of marketing to act like there is no tomorrow
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| Father told me son you must never walk alone
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| Keep these memories in your heart and you will learn to carry on
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| It’s not an angel not a satellite that makes you want to keep on singing
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| It’s not an angel not a satellite that makes you want to keep on singing
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| I will rectify the fallacy of waiting for my new beginning
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| I will rectify the fallacy of waiting for my new tomorrow |