| I left my heart in a plastic box
|
| On the bedside table
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| It will be locked 'til I get home
|
| I’ve grown feeble and tired of the world
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| Tired of constantly missing my girl
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| And I long to smell the sea
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| And I long to smell the sea
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| The sea, the sea
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| The sea, the sea
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| The sea, yeah
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| I miss the Pacific Ocean
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| And the northwestern air
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| And to run each of my fingers
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| Through the strands of her hair
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| I’ve been all over this country lately
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| But I’ve been nowhere it seems, nowhere
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| Well, I’ve found the cure
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| For my landlocked blues
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| It’s coming home to you
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| It’s coming home to you
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| You, oh oh oh
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| You, oh oh oh
|
| You, oh oh oh
|
| You, oh
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| If a simple seed gets just what it needs
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| Then a redwood tree can grow
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| Up to a hundred feet for the world to see
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| And endure the sleet and the snow
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| But if my whole life was wrapped and priced
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| I wonder what the tag would show
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| 'Cause every time I’m close to the holy ghost
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| I always seem to let her go
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| I let her go, I let her go
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| I let her go, I let her go
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| I let her go, I let her go
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| I let her go, I let her go, go
|
| I let her go, I let her go
|
| I let her go, I let her go, go
|
| I left my heart in a plastic box
|
| On the bedside table
|
| It will be locked 'til I get home |