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Well I was born of the earth with my hands to the sky. |
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And I'll die in the dirt on the fourth of July. |
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And my body will burst into millions of sparks. |
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And I'll hang like a ghost in the trailer park until I'm gone. |
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I was born of the earth with my hands to the sky. |
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And I'll die in the dirt on the fourth of July. |
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And my body will burst into millions of sparks. |
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And I'll hang like a ghost in the trailer park until I'm gone. |
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And I can hear the wind blow. |
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It sounds like angels and babies breath. |
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So leave some dirt in my hands. |
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Lay my body in the street. |
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And I'll be searching out God. |
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To lay my stones at her feet. |
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And when the winds lay waste. |
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To the fields and the stars. |
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I'll be spinning my home in the back of your car |
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Until it's done. |
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And I can hear the wind blow. |
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It sounds like angels and babies breath. |
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And I can see my mother's praying hands. |
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Like petals in the wind sweeping across my yard. |