(Dan Messe/Gary Maurer)
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Mean are the winds that tear at the palms
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A tiny baby is crying then calms
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And curses ring out instead of the psalms
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I don't know
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And black are the sounds dragged from the trains
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They leave a trail of rust in the rains
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Great Lakes are spilling across the Great Plains
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They swallow up everything
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Oh no, oh no
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Board up the windows and shoot at the crows
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And lay every might thing low
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Well I didn't know that day that I fell
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In Terre Haute at the Paris Hotel
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Where I lost something that I'd never sell
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I let go
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Now all that I see keeps me afraid
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I count the years by the marks that they made
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And watch the sun from a circle of shade
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That swallows up everything
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Oh no, oh no
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Board up the windows and shoot at the crows
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Oh No
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Hem |