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Down the street I'll park the car |
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You go ahead and meet me inside |
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There's no reason for us to both go through with it |
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On the way I'll call about this guitar |
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Don't want to sell, but I'm in the red |
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Plus I just don't know what to do with it |
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Had I been more awake this morning |
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I would have seen the coming warnings |
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The calendar, the pens, Sunday on the phone again |
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Today we'd stand alone with pines |
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Instaed of with produce, in endless lines |
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How does preparation for the week require the entire weekend? |
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Shop for gloves among evergreens |
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Long woolen skins in unsubtle themes |
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And entire season on a credit card |
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Observing loves, rare friendships seen |
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Manifest their greatest deeds |
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With facing feet from numbered dressing stalls |
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Had I been more awake this morning |
|
I could have seen the coming warnings |
|
The calendar, the pens, Sunday on the phone again |
|
Today we'd stand alone with pines |
|
Instaed of with produce, in restless lines |
|
How does preparation for the week require the entire weekend? |
|
The next time you say to me |
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"This week's just a day too long" |
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Well your days are getting shorter, and as a gentle reminder |
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Under boots tan needles break |
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Every Sunday I pray you'll see |
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That you're doing this thing all wrong |
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Because down on the corner, among the pines |
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Hopelessly small and still, they defy the rake |
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Every Sunday I pray you'll see |
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That you're doing this thing all wrong |
|
Because down on the corner, among the pines |
|
Hopelessly small and still, they defy the rake |