| I can tell him his toy gun won’t kill Indians
|
| And the towel around his neck don’t make him strong
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| I can tell him there’s no Easter bunny
|
| But I don’t know how to tell him that you’re gone
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| He still looks for you every morning
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| He’s cried every night we’ve been alone
|
| I can tell him there’s no real Santa
|
| But I don’t know how to tell him that you’re gone
|
| I can tell him his broomstick’s not a pony
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| And wearin' daddy’s boots don’t make him grown
|
| I can tell him there’s no to ferry
|
| But I don’t know how to tell him that you’re gone
|
| He still looks for you every morning
|
| He’s cried every night we’ve been alone
|
| I can tell him there’s no real Santa
|
| But I don’t know how to tell him that you’re gone
|
| I don’t know how to tell him that you’re gone |