| Grab the weed I got a story to tell
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| A couple years ago, It was Christmas night back in my home town Wells
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| The snow fall, about an inch an hour
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| And on the road just our pickup truck, snow plows
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| After fulfilling our obligations
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| Me and my man Phil met up to start blazin'
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| Around 8 sparked the back woods, on the back road, the wind chill blew the snow
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| like satchmo
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| I asked «How was your Christmas?», he said «it sucked.»
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| I asked «Why?», he said,"Man my sister’s fucked
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| And if that slut died tonight it wouldn’t be enough"
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| I asked for an explanation he just took another puff
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| He handed it to me, I told him «Mine wasn’t better.»
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| «I just got a couple corny-ass sweaters
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| And my family embarrassed me because apparently getting arrested twice in a
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| month is worthy of a parody.»
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| Just then, turned onto Bear’s Den, saw a whip with a woman and a kid in it,
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| in a ditch
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| Volkswagen the color of cocaine
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| With the front end buried inside a snow bank
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| Temperatures near zero man, it isn’t May
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| No reception out here to call Triple A
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| It’s safe to say if Phil and I hadn’t drove by, this lady and her son could’ve
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| frozen and died
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| We put the woods in the ash tray
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| Stopped the truck, put the gloves on, hopped out of the shit and walked that way
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| We asked if we could help, she said «Oh, thank God, yes."She looked blazed
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| herself.
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| Her son shivered in the passenger, wearing a seat belt, he looked to be about 12
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| We said «No Prob,"The son said «You're our guardian angels,»
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| We laughed and moved the truck at an angle
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| We hooked the chains up and put her in drive
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| We had 'em out faster than a first pitch pop fly
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| It was all thank-yous, and huggin'
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| Could’ve sworn I smelled Rum on the breath of the woman
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| Nonetheless, I gave her son a high-five, said bye hopped up in the truck and
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| drove into the night
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| Never told anybody about the good deed of the two dudes in hoodies
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| Wish the story ended there
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| I awoke next morning with the sun
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| Reflecting off the snow in the yard out front
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| I felt fine in my flannel sheets
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| The day after a snow storm tends to bring clarity
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| And a shit load of shovelin'
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| I was still living in the home that my mother’s in
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| I pulled the covers off, I felt quite alive as I reached to my phone that I had
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| on silent
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| Now this was years ago now, but I recall I saw 16 texts, 31 missed calls
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| I knew something was awry.
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| I ran downstairs, mom tears in her eyes
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| And a mouth agape staring at the TV
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| I said «What happened?», I knew something was creepy
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| She just pointed at the screen
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| I walked down next to her to see
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| And I saw it
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| «Two dead in a drunk driving crash in Wells
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| A woman, 22, and a boy age 12
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| One survivor was in critical condition,»
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| It was the mother of the boy, they think she had been drinking
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| The scene on the screen looked grimy
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| A white Jetta bisected by a pine tree
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| In the background a green jeep flipped
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| I put my hand to my mouth and said «Jesus»…
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| As I recognized the sugar loaf sticker
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| On the back of the jeep that belonged to Phil’s sister
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| The whole scene flashed blue and red lights
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| Illuminating Christmas night
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| My heart sunk like a plane with no wings because I understood the whole thing.
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| My heart sunk like a plane with no wings. |
| broken
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| I mean, what if we had left them in that ditch?
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| What if we never burn cruised and we were good kids?
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| What if Phil was a bad dude like everybody thought
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| Because he sold pot
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| And we never even stopped to help them?
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| What if I had questioned that mom?
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| What if Phil’s sister and that boy weren’t gone?
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| What if that right that we did was a wrong?
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| And what if? |
| and so on and on until the break of dawn.
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| Just another Christmas song |