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Where I come from |
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It's a land of many islands |
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Two rivers run to the east and to the west |
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Wanted to run far away as I could as fast as I could get |
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No matter where I've been |
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Can't escape who I am or forget |
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Where I come from |
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Paint is peeling all the time |
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Winter's long, gets into your boots |
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The river runs high and wild |
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High and wild in the springtime |
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Stories come through our faded little town |
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When the sun shines |
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Veterans |
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The veterans of all the past wars |
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Sit outside on a Sunday afternoon |
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The mills closed down long ago |
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So we're way past unemployment |
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A good bad joke somebody told on our town |
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For their enjoyment |
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The September sun |
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Colors boldly flying |
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Pretty reds, orange, gold, and brown |
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Most beautiful as the light is dying |
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Most beautiful as the day goes down |