| Going back to a tender age,
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| So full of confusion and rage,
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| Daddy says, «Boys, your Mama’s gone.»
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| There’s a hand on your shoulder as you’re throwing dirt,
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| Someone says, «Time heals the hurt.
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| Little man, you got to keep on keepin' on,»
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| But all you want is Mama’s arms.
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| You ride back home in a limosine,
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| The saddest car that you’ve ever seen,
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| Your brother can not look you in the eye.
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| Lightning strikes, thunder roars,
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| An early winter in that heart of yours,
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| But you swear you won’t let them see you cry
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| 'cause all you want is Mama’s arms.
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| The neighbors come and bring you pies,
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| Endless words and futile sighs,
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| And you run up to your room and lock the door.
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| And there you are in your Sunday best,
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| The way your Mama would have had you dressed
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| And you realize it doesn’t matter anymore
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| 'cause all you want is Mama’s arms.
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| 'Round and 'round and 'round it goes.
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| The seasons change the young boy grows
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| To understand it’s all part of some plan.
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| You used to wonder what it’s all about.
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| Now those are questions you can do without.
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| You laugh them off and do the best you can
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| But all you want is Mama’s arms.
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| All you want is Mama’s arms. |