| Jami was a good friend
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| Back when we were kids and my father got sick
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| We would hang out on the weekends
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| In her house by the cathedral where all the good people
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| Got dressed up on a Sunday
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| To go and spill their secrets no matter who the preacher was
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| We used to find that funny
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| But it’s easy when you’re young not to realize that you’re lucky
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| When the last of your friends are gone
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| You learn a whole lot about hanging on and on
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| But if you crash and nobody sees
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| Just remember there will always be
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| A room for you in my house in the trees
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| Aaron was a good friend
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| We were in our twenties, we drove across the country
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| Then moved into the canyon
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| And he looked after the business the year that I got sick
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| Then we went off in different directions
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| Kept in touch but it never was the same
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| I never got to thank him
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| But I wrote it in a letter
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| I’m sure I’ll send it someday
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| When the last of your friends are gone
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| You learn a whole lot about hanging on and on
|
| But if you crash and nobody sees
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| Just remember there will always be
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| A room for you in my house in the trees
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| Trees
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| I am a lucky man
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| I have been so many places
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| When I dream it seems I’m chasing
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| A bittersweet, bittersweet, bittersweet memories
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| When the last of your friends are gone
|
| You learn a whole lot about hanging on and on
|
| But if you crash and nobody sees
|
| Just remember there will always be
|
| A room for you in my house in the trees
|
| Trees
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| My house in the trees
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| Trees
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| My house in the trees
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| Trees |