| Plane comes down on the old runway, home again for a week I’ll stay
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| Hanging out like I used to do, hope to find some old friends I knew
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| Hear the news in the honky tonk, who got married, yes, and who split up G
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| Drinking beer while the jukebox plays, brand new songs for brand new days
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| Quiet nights and empty streets, sleepy town, humble home
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| Same old waltz in the wind, by the railroad track
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| Riding out to a country bridge, moonlight shining across the ridge
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| Frozen trees neath a billion stars, 7 friends jammed in Robby’s car
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| High as kites and wild and gone, drunk as well and laughing loud
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| Back at home I say good night (Good night) and I close the door
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| Sunday morning the church bell rings, the organ plays and the choir
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| sings. |
| Where am I while the preacher speaks? |
| Dreaming dreams neath
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| my sheets asleep
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| Waking up and trying to think, what went down, what’d we do? |
| I rub
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| my eyes and I shake my head and feel the sun
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| Plane takes off on the old runway, snow fell light on the ground
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| today Lost an hour that I gained before, headed back to my New York
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| door. |
| fare thee well, adios, adieu and best of luck to all of you I
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| ain’t no saint and I don’t pretend to be, but I hope you all found a G
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| friend in me
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| ity lights blink and shine, down below, let it change
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| It’s often said that life is strange, oh yes, but compared to what? |