| He was sittin' there, his brush in hand
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| Painting waves as they danced, upon the sand
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| With every stroke, he brought to life
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| The deep blue of the ocean, against the mornin' sky
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| I asked him if he only painted ocean scenes
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| He said for twenty dollars, I’ll paint you anything
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| Could you paint me at Birmingham
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| Make it look just the way I planned
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| A little house on the edge of town
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| Porch goin' all the way around
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| Put her there in the front yard swing
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| Cotton dress make it, early spring
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| For a while she’ll be mine again
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| If you could paint me a Birmingham
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| He looked at me, with knowing eyes
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| Then took a canvas from a bag there by his side
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| Picked up a brush, and said to me
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| Son, just where in this picture would you like to be
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| I said if there’s any way you can
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| Could you paint me back into her arms again
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| Could you paint me at Birmingham
|
| Make it look just the way I planned
|
| A little house on the edge of town
|
| Porch goin' all the way around
|
| Put her there in the front yard swing
|
| Cotton dress make it, early spring
|
| For a while she’ll be mine again
|
| If you could paint me a Birmingham
|
| Paint me at Birmingham
|
| Make it look just the way I planned
|
| A little house on the edge of town
|
| Porch goin' all the way around
|
| Put her there in the front yard swing
|
| Cotton dress make it, early spring
|
| For a while she’ll be, mine again
|
| If you could paint me a Birmingham
|
| Oh, paint me a Birmingham |