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I love the smell of fresh fallin' rain and the sight of a clear mountain range
in the spring and the joy that it brings.
I love the waves that break on the sand and the way that you make me
feel like a man just holdin' my hand.
But all those things will never mend the broken dreams I left back when
I was too young to know that rings aren't just things.
They stand for so much more than when two people say, on that day
when life and love are joined. They represent a constant state of heart
that time alone can't part.
I love the feel of an old leather rein hangin' down, across a coal-black mane.
Such a simple thing.
I love the sound of an old steam train rollin' out, down that old cross-grain.
Such a sweet refrain.
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