| alone at last. |
| just nostalgia and I
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| we were sure to have a blast.
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| for you it was just another Sunday
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| in a small Indiana town.
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| I went by the place where you and I
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| wrote our names in wet cement
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| and for a moment remembered how it felt
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| to have no one understand that there’s this dream
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| and they’re not part of it. |
| how soon we do forget.
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| the house was gone but the piano lingers on
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| and so does the fire that burned it to the ground.
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| you can take away all of my rights to see the day
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| but you can’t take away my love for the day.
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| then there’s the time that you took me aside
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| and said I was not your only son
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| childhood is so fucked up.
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| I never had any closer friends
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| than the ones I had when I was young.
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| alone again just you and I
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| nostalgia wave goodbye.
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| I think it’s time for me to go.
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| Every day I come by your house and I pick you up
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| We go out we have a few drinks
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| And a few laughs in the spring
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| You know what the best part of my day is?
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| For about 10 seconds from when I pull up to the curb to when I get to your door
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| Cause I think maybe I’ll get up there and knock on the door
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| And you won’t be there
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| No goodbye, no see ya later no nothing
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| Just left
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| I don’t know much but I know that |