| There’s a sweet little farmhouse in Virginia
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| Full of guns and ammunition
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| In the driveway there’s some pickup trucks
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| With shotgun racks and camouflage paint
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| Down a path to the river
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| There’s some good ole boy just drinkin' and fishin'
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| And when the shit hits the fan, you know just who to call
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| Or who to blame
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| And you can try
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| And you can try
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| But you can’t look away
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| You can’t look away
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| You can’t look away
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| You can try
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| But you can’t look away
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| She steps out of the bathtub, barely covers up with a towel
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| And gets the front door
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| It’s the college boy from up the street
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| Here to cut the grass while her husband’s away
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| And the neighbors they peaked through the blinds
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| 'Cause they know her man’s overseas, lost in the war
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| She fixes her hair up, lets the boy inside
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| For lemonade
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| Yeah you can try
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| And you can try
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| But you can’t look away
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| Yeah you can’t look away
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| You can’t look away
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| You can try
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| But you can’t look away
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| And it’s a colorful sight
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| It’s got the dark and the light
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| It’s never just black and white
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| Or even grey
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| You can’t look away
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| There’s a sweet little girl with a folded up flag
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| On the foot of her bed
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| Red white and blue turns to black suits and dresses
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| And headlights in the rain
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| She doesn’t notice the headstone and the white bouquets
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| And the leftover last respects
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| It’s just the one purple wildflower
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| Coming up from the dirt on the grave
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| It’s a colorful sight
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| It’s got the dark and the light
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| It’s never just black and white
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| Or even grey
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| You can’t look away
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| You can’t look away
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| You can’t look away
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| You can try but you can’t look away
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| Oh you can try but you can’t look away
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| You can try but you can’t look away
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| You can try but you can’t look away
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| You can try but you can’t look away
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| Try but you can’t look away
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| You can try but you can’t look away
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| Try but you can’t look away
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| Try but you can’t look away |