| It’s that time of year when my eyes are misting all day long
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| And the bones that hold my mind are prone to breaking
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| And the Carolina coast feels like a friend that once was close
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| Or a feeling from a dream I could not shake
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| So I am packing all my things into the smallest bag I have
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| And I am hoping that the salty air can cure just like my mama said
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| And reading Rumi talk of God like he always was a friend
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| I hope that’s how I will remember him
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| I hope that’s how I will remember him
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| The whole way there, I was worried about how you would see me
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| Yeah I never quite got used to this here body
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| But the sun was shining bright and casting fairies on the sea
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| And so I never even thought, once, to say sorry
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| So I am taking all our things and placing them onto the sand
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| And I am thinking about how your hand feels almost like my own hand
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| And about how we make plans but we don’t always follow through
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| Yeah I hope that’s how I will remember you
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| I hope that is how I will remember you
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| There were three new words tied into the rope that we had found |
| As the day began to spread across our shores
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| You looked upon the world as if it all was hallowed ground
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| And the future was a dream I could ignore
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| So I am taking all my bags and throwing them into the sea
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| And I am hoping that your hand will stay this close to my body
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| And we will stay as long as it feels good, and then we’ll leave
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| Yeah I hope that’s how you will remember me
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| I hope that is how you will remember me
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| I hope that is how you will remember me |