| It’s 66 and cloudy here this mornin'
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| I’ll make a bet those clouds will turn to rain
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| The weather’s rusted out the sign
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| And I almost missed the turn
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| That’ll take me down to Saunders Ferry Lane
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| The creekin' boards of the empty dock
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| Are the only sounds I hear
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| The sign on the catfish stand says
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| «closed till spring»
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| Summer drown in the frozen lake
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| As the winter came to life
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| And nothing moves in Saunders Ferry Lane
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| Nothing moves in Saunders Ferry Lane
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| Raindrops mingle with the leaves
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| That tumble to the ground
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| As I find my way to the spot
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| Where we once lay
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| But the grass is dead
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| The life is gone
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| And the birds have flown away
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| It’s awful cold in Saunders Ferry Lane
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| Awful cold in Saunders Ferry Lane
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| The gentle arms that held me
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| And made me want tomorrow now are, are gone
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| We found so much comfort
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| In the way we loved each other
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| Then the angels came
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| As quietly as the dawn
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| Standing by the water
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| In an icy winter wind
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| I find no present comfort for my pain
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| No gentle arms to hold me now
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| I know there’s nothin' worse
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| Than a day alone in Saunders Ferry Lane
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| A day alone in Saunders Ferry Lane
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| It’s 32, and raining here this evening
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| I’ll make a bet that rain will turn to snow
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| It’s hard to see through the tears
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| And I almost missed the turn
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| The easy way from Saunders Ferry Lane
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| The easy way from Saunders Ferry Lane |