The place where I was born is a vague memory
Like the flakes in the snow of a broke-down TV
It could be in a big city in a beautiful dell
With a red corn silo or a broken church bell
The girls would all be pretty and the men quiet and strong
The autumn is beautiful and summer not too long
Rains of May would come pouring down in the mud
The last thing I'll do before I call it quits
Is probably dream just a little bit
But nothing too hard on my sweet fadin' mind 'cause everything is gonna be just fine
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