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Dont Cuss the Fiddle

I heard the front door closing softly,

as I wakened from my sleep;

With the last touch of her kips, Lord,

like a whisper on my cheek;

And I cursed the sun for risin',

'cause the worst, Lord, was yet to come;

'Cause this morning, she's just leavin',

but, come sundown, she'll be gone.



See the lipstick on the pillow

that I placed beneath her head;

And the soft sheets still feel warm, Lord,

where she lay upon my bed;

And it hurts to know it's over,

for the hurt, Lord, has just begun.

'Cause this morning, she's just leavin',

but, come sundown, she'll be gone.

Крис Кристофферсон

Dont Cuss the Fiddle / Крис Кристофферсон

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