| I always knew that I would live and die in Boston
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| When I was five I put my hands into cement and you knelt beside me
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| It dried up and hardened so fast
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| We packed our bags and headed south
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| Leaving them behind, never coming back
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| To those same small hands that pulled you through a crosswalk
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| Ready for whatever’s coming next
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| Someday I hope you find everything you want
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| And just forgive me for everything I’m not
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| I’ll try and hide how damaged I’ve become
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| Oh my god, why is the world so sad?
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| I always knew that I would live and die in Boston
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| When I was five I put my hands into cement and you knelt beside me
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| It dried up and hardened so fast
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| I guess I found my way back home but those hands no longer fit
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| (I was never any good at saying sorry, thank you for that.)
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| But I’m ready for whatever is whatever is coming next
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| I always knew that I would live and die in Boston
|
| When I was five I put my hands into cement
|
| And you knelt besides me
|
| It dried up and hardened so fast |