| This one is for Diana, wherever she may be
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| It’s strange the people we meet who we never see again!
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| There was this girl, slept on my floor
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| Diana was her name, she said I’m cold and very tired
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| I showed her in and she sat down
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| Her face was pale and drawn as she sat down upon the floor
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| Sometimes we pass each other
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| Sometimes we cannot tell which way we’ve come
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| And a fleeting glimpse of someone
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| Is sometimes all we’ll know
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| She looked at me through tired eyes
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| I asked her where she came from then she said «the other side»
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| I didn’t know, that she was cold
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| Her shoulders were sore though carrying her heavy load
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| She said «I'm glad you took me in
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| There was no other place tonight for me to lay me down»
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| So when I said «Where are you from?»
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| «Phoenix is my home,» she said, «a long long way from town»
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| I said goodnight. |
| As she lay down
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| She said «I must get something for this cold of mine tomorrow»
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| I awoke, then she had gone
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| I wonder where she is right now, I guess I’ll never know |