| Golden rod and the 4-H stone
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| The things I brought you
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| When I found out you had cancer of the bone
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| Your father cried on the telephone
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| And he drove his car to the Navy yard
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| Just to prove that he was sorry
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| In the morning through the window shade
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| When the light pressed up against your shoulder blade
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| I could see what you were reading
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| Oh the glory that the lord has made
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| And the complications you could do without
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| When I kissed you on the mouth
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| Tuesday night at the bible study
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| We lift our hands and pray over your body
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| But nothing ever happens
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| I remember at Michael’s house
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| In the living room when you kissed my neck
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| And I almost touched your blouse
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| In the morning at the top of the stairs
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| When your father found out what we did that night
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| And you told me you were scared
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| Oh the glory when you ran outside
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| With your shirt tucked in and your shoes untied
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| And you told me not to follow you
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| Sunday night when I cleaned the house
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| I find the card where you wrote it out
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| With the pictures of your mother
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| On the floor at the great divide
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| With my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied
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| I am crying in the bathroom
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| In the morning when you finally go And the nurse runs in with her head hung low
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| And the cardinal hits the window
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| In the morning in the winter shade
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| On the first of March on the holiday
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| I thought I saw you breathing
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| Oh the glory that the lord has made
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| And the complications when I see his face
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| In the morning in the window
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| Oh the glory when he took our place
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| But he took my shoulders and he shook my face
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| And he takes and he takes and he takes |