letra de the good old days - dick curless
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carry my clothes in an old brown suitcase
that my momma had
tell the time by an old pocket watch
left me by my dad
these are things i call memories
everything i remember was bad
i never had a place to call back home
i’m standin’ in the middle of all i own
i hope i never live to hear me say
that these turned out to be the good old days
i remember when papa died
the county had to pay
we didn’t have monеy to pay for food
much less a grave
thesе are things i call memories
everything i remember was bad
i never had a place to call back home
i’m standin’ in the middle of all i own
i hope i never live to hear me say
that these turned out to be the good old days
that these turned out to be the good old days
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