| She walked to the mailbox
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| On that bright summers day
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| Found a letter from her son
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| In a war far away
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| He spoke of the weather
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| And good friends that he’d made
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| Said I’d been thinking 'bout dad
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| And the life that he had
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| Thats why I’m here today
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| And that the end he said
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| You are what I’m fighting for
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| It was the first of the letters from war
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| She started writing
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| You’re good and you’re brave
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| What a father that you’ll be someday
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| make it home
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| make it safe
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| She wrote every night as she prayed
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| Late in December
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| A day she’ll not forget
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| Oh her tears stained the paper
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| With every word that she read
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| It said «I was up on a hill
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| I was out there alone
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| When the shots all rang out
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| And bombs were exploding
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| And thats when I saw him
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| He came back for me And though he was captured
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| A man set me free
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| And that man was your son
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| He asked me to write to you
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| I told him i would, oh I swore»
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| It was the last of the letters from war
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| And she prayed he was living
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| Kept on believing
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| And wrote every night just to say
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| You are good
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| And you’re brave
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| what a father that you’ll be someday
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| Make it home
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| Make it safe
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| Still she kept writing each day
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| Then two years later
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| Autumn leaves all around
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| A car pulled in the driveway
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| And she fell to the ground
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| And out stepped a captain
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| Where her boy used to stand
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| He said «mom I’m following orders
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| From all of your letters
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| And I’ve come home again»,
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| He ran into hold her
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| And dropped all his bags on the floor
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| Holding all of her letters from war
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| Bring him home
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| Bring him home
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| Bring him home |