It's coming on the end of August.
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Another summer's promise almost gone.
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And though I heard some wise men say that every dog will have his day,
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He never mentioned that these dog days get so long.
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I don't know when I realized the dream was over.
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Well, there was no particular hour, no given day.
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You know it didn't go down in flame,
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There was no final scene, no frozen frame,
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I just watched it slowly fade away.
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And I've been waiting in the weeds,
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Waiting for my time to come around again.
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And hope is floating on the breeze,
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Carrying my soul high up above the ground.
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And I've been keeping to myself,
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Knowing that the seasons are slowly changing you,
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And though you're with somebody else,
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He'll never love you like I do.
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I've been biding time with the crows and sparrows,
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While peacocks prance and strut up on the stage.
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If finding love is just a dance, proximity and chance,
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You will excuse me if I skip the masquerade.
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And I've been waiting in the weeds,
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Waiting for the dust to settle down.
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Along the back roads, running through the fields,
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Lying on the outskirts of this lonesome town.
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And I imagine sunlight in your hair, you're at the county fair,
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You're holding hands and laughing,
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And now the Ferris Wheel has stopped,
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You're swinging on the top, suspended there with him,
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And he's the darling of the chic,
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The flavor of the week is melting down your pretty summer dress, baby what a mess you're making.
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I've been stumbling though some dark places,
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And I'm following the plow.
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I know I've fallen out of your good graces
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It's all right now.
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And I've been waiting in the weeds,
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Waiting for the summer rain to fall.
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Upon the wild birds, scattering the seeds,
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Answering the calling of the
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Tide's Eternal tune, the phases of the moon,
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The chambers of the heart, the egg and dart.
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A small gray spider spinning in the dark,
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In spite of all the times the web is torn apart.
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And I've been waiting in the weeds,
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Waiting for my time to come around again.
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And hope is floating on the breeze,
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Carrying my soul high up above the ground.
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And I've been keeping to myself,
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Knowing that the seasons are slowly changing you,
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And though you're with somebody else,
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He'll never love you like I do.
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Waiting In The Weeds
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Eagles |