| When i walk the hill so high
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| Around the town where i was born
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| New york seems so far away
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| Though i was there just yesterday
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| I have played on my guitar
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| In coffeehouses, hall, and bars
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| Everyone that i call friend
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| Knows they will not be forgot
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| Trains and planes and rented cars
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| Singers, saints, and other starts
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| I suspect them every one
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| They’ll never change
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| It’s too much fun
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| Just for now i’d like to rest
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| In the shade of a maple tree
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| To the blue canadian sky
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| I’ll say a prayer for the world out there
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| When i stand on my own sod
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| It feels so good to be home, by god
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| The winter wind has turned my head
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| But i always came up warm somehow
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| Bottles, beads, and cigarettes
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| And lovers that i ain’t found yet
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| Pickin’with a friend till dawn
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| And singing all of those hi’way songs
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| Just for now i’d like to rest
|
| In the shade of a maple tree
|
| To the blue canadian sky
|
| I’ll say a prayer for the world out there
|
| When i walk the hill so high
|
| Around the town where i was born
|
| New york seems so far away
|
| Though i was there just yesterday
|
| I would travel all my life
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| If loneliness was not the price
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| While headin’north across that line’s
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| The only time i’m flyin' |