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  Pile of postcards across the front yard 
  All of 'em worried you didn't need the same 
  It's gettin cold 
  We're gettin older 
  If I sound hurried, I ain't running away 

  I'm only chasing 
  The paper on the pavement, playing country tunes 
  Bracing, bracing for the pain I don't see coming soon 
  Tell me about your day while I lay on top of you 
  Or sit across from you 

  I'm hard to watch I know I lost my touch 
  Cut my hair and then it never grew 
  Took a Greyhound, then I was southbound 
  Georgia on my mind right next to you 
  Round New Jersey I was getting wordy 
  I'll send a bird to sing "I love you, too" 
  Wait a week some 
  You know I'll see you, hon 
  But I better get there bеfore these papеrs do 

  It's always raining 
  Like the song we love that's double both our ages 
  Changing like the seasons and their reasons not for staying long 
  Like the wind, and the tide 
  Baby you and I can meet in Macon 
  Get to shakin 
  Our records playin 

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