Remember back when seasons don't change
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Late December winds bringin pain, back to me...
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and I've been closing these doors for days
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the sky is fallin down on my grave...
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oh are we gonna make it?
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South Pacific's whiskey and sin, now honey,
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these angels got me talking again, jump slowly
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gently as the breakin waves, I'm flying,
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the tide closing in on my face...
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Mayfield
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| Augustana |
