| I lose my grip, I drive out far
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| Past fireworks at the old trailer park
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| And folding chairs, American flags
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| Selling tomatoes at five bucks a bag
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| When she was young, she kept to herself
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| Now she regrets sending me straight to Hell
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| She kissed my cheek, she touched my skin
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| She said «you're just as stupid as I was back then»
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| If I burn out like a lighbulb
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| They’ll say «she wasn’t meant for that life»
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| They’ll put it all in a capsule and save it for a dark night
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| When we were kids, free as the air
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| With a violence craving to turn up somewhere
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| A tap dancer, a memorized number
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| An avalanche of the deep red clay earth
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| When it got bad, Arkadelphia Road
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| I couldn’t cry, I just pick up the load
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| And feign a strength, try to force your hand
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| But you leave a promise wherever it may land
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| If you get real close to the ending
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| I hope you know I did what I could
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| We try to give it all meaning
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| Glorify the grain of the wood
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| Tell ourselves what’s beautiful and good
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| I hold on tight, come in from far
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| I watch the baby run around the yard
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| Get lonely for what I’ll never know
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| Losing the thread of a story, overtold
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| If we luck out, free as the air
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| With an unrest craving to spill everywhere
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| We’ll weigh what’s good and get real old
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| Keep driving straight searching for a heart of gold
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| If we make pleasant conversation
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| I hope you can’t see what’s burning in me
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| To see a slip as a failure
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| A balance I couldn’t keep
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| You count the rings for truth you’ll never cheat |