| Oh, the year blew past
|
| And there was nothing that you could hold
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| Except for all the things I told you
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| Were worth holding onto
|
| And all the fields were rolling by
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| And you could watch them from the side
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| You never lay there in the long nights of the summer
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| Then I got home
|
| By then, the fall had come
|
| Three seasons passed since I had seen her
|
| There’s a hotel room
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| And there’s a window to the roof
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| The glass is coated up in smoke and it won’t open
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| And I knew you were asleep
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| And the wind blew through the screen
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| And the noise up from the street had finally faded
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| When I got home
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| The days had all grown cold
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| And the trees pointed out into the winter
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| There’s a dream of home
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| For those that work out on the road
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| And there’s a vision of the road for all the others
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| I can tell you what I’ve seen
|
| Because I’ve been at both extremes
|
| There’ll be a time you’ll wish you could trade your life for another’s
|
| You’d better know where you’re going, babe, before you go
|
| You’d better know where you’re going, babe, before you go
|
| You’d better know where you’re going, babe, before you go
|
| You’d better know where you’re going, babe, before you go
|
| You’d better know where you’re going, babe, before you go
|
| You’d better know where you’re going, babe, before you go |