| All gathered 'round in our Sunday best
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| After the service on them old church steps
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| Congregation spilling into the streets
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| Ain’t it funny how the preacher’s words
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| Disappear out here on the curb
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| Once the weight of an old friend’s body and your hands meet
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| Tending bar up in Syracuse
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| Momma called when she got the news
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| Hell, I don’t know who she’ll miss more, you or me
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| No, it didn’t feel real, no not 'til now
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| Behind this long black Lincoln in our little town
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| Rolling by buildings I never thought again I’d see
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| And I can’t help but think about all that we could have been
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| Had you not stayed here and settled for a life with him
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| Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
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| Buried is the secret that was us
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| I can still see you standing there
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| Swollen eyes and snow in your hair
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| And your shaking voice say you couldn’t get past the shame
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| Eight weeks into a nine month ride
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| Either way it’s still a lie
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| Carrying your child with another man’s name
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| And I can’t help but think about all that we could have been
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| Had you not stayed here and settled for a life with him
|
| Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
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| Buried is the secret that was us
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| I walk up and shake his hand, tell him just how sorry I am
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| And what I wouldn’t give to have you back
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| I wonder if you’re looking down on all who is gathered 'round
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| Knowing one day I too will find peace
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| And I can’t help but think about all that we could have been
|
| Had you not stayed here and settled for a life with him
|
| Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
|
| Buried is the secret that was us
|
| Buried is the secret that was us |