| We crossed the Vietnam Veterans Bridge
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| During the spring, there are pink and yellow foxgloves along the ridges
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| This old car smells like when we were kids road tripping
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| To Pennsylvania and West Virginia and to the Crybaby Bridge
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| The Vietnam Veterans Bridge crosses the ravine
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| You look out and all you see is serene green
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| Trees going on for days and days
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| South Lake Tahoe that way, Sacramento and San Francisco the other way
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| This car feels like it’s been lived in
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| Like there have been good times in here and all kinds of sacrilege
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| This car has so many miles, it’s been on so many pilgrimages
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| Who knows where it’s went and who knows where it’s been?
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| This car reminds me of young road trips
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| Listening to Jimi Hendrix’s Rainbow Bridge
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| And Robin Trower’s Bridge of Sighs, the sun don’t shine, the moon don’t move
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| The way he bends his strings sounds like a scorned person crying
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| Tonight we’ll be crossing the Vietnam Veterans Bridge
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| On the way to San Francisco on Memorial Day, I should’ve been in Sweden or
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| Norway
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| But things didn’t work out that way this May
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| It’s nice to be sharing time with you though, it’s nice to get away
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| Being around the house so much reminds me of being a kid
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| I know my way around the yard, every blackberry bush, every rosebush,
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| every inch of my bedroom, every garbage can lid
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| Every fern, every flower, every tree trunk, every spigot
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| I knew a red squirrel named Fox, I knew an albino squirrel named Edgar,
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| I knew a brown squirrel named James, I knew a black squirrel named Willis
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| And when we crossed the Vietnam Veterans Bridge
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| I think of the word Vietnam, I was born in 1967, I heard it every day until I
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| was 11
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| My mom would drop me off in downtown Canton, Ohio to play chess
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| At a chess club, I’d be sitting there with Vietnam vet’s
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| I remember their army jackets and their Marlboro Red cigarettes
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| Though I was a kid, they treated me like an adult, they treated me with
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| kindness and respect
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| I remember sitting on the cement steps California dreamin'
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| Waiting for my mom to pick me up and take me home
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| I was just a kid with a bunch of guys who looked like John Voight in Coming Home
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| And here I am on my roof looking at the Golden Gate Bridge
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| Reflecting on my life and all that has led me from those young road trips to
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| this
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| Grateful for you, for with you, my life is blessed
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| I, remembering young road trips |