[00:13.23] |
We were sittin' round the supper table and the buzz of the frigidaire |
[00:18.83] |
Was the only sound 'til momma laid down, a book she found upstairs |
[00:25.48] |
It was covered in dust in the back of the closet, |
[00:29.47] |
Goodwill box we almost tossed it out |
[00:33.36] |
We could have lost all those memories |
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There was a picture of mama in the pouring rain |
[00:42.29] |
Ticket stubs to a Braves game |
[00:45.60] |
Silver star and a baggage claim from Hanoi, Vietnam |
[00:51.58] |
There was a picture of him callin' on grandpa |
[00:55.27] |
Leather skin from a baseball |
[00:58.43] |
We laughed and cried, told stories all night long |
[01:03.26] |
From the book of John |
[01:06.45] |
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[01:18.00] |
Now the pot of coffee's almost gone, as we turn another page |
[01:23.88] |
We're climbing on him like a Jungle Jim, watching his hair turn gray |
[01:30.90] |
All the Polaroids are just reminders, |
[01:34.12] |
You can't hold life in a three ring binder |
[01:37.61] |
We flipped on through 'em anyway |
[01:41.16] |
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[01:43.63] |
There's a picture at his sister taken in July |
[01:47.10] |
On the steps of the church pulling out his tie |
[01:50.31] |
Hair's still wet from gettin' baptized, the brand new blue suit on |
[01:56.34] |
An old set of keys to his Chevrolet |
[02:00.10] |
A crumpled up receipt for a wedding ring |
[02:03.28] |
We watched ourselves grow up there in his arms |
[02:07.90] |
In the book of John |
[02:11.94] |
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[02:22.95] |
That sun came up, we were wide awake |
[02:26.21] |
Head to toe in black and gray |
[02:29.30] |
Long black Lincoln waiting down the drive |
[02:34.54] |
He was father, son, husband and friend |
[02:39.06] |
I still flip through it every now and then |
[02:42.12] |
When I need just a few words of advice |
[02:47.60] |
It's almost like he's not really gone |
[02:52.69] |
And I know one day I'll be passin' on |
[03:01.73] |
The book of John |
[03:06.20] |
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