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I remember a girl with short brown hair,
And big blue eyes, and freckles on her nose.
I remember a day when the tears fell like rain
On the cold, hard pavement underneath her naked toes.
I remember the piano. I remember a song.
And as I stood and watched I tried to take it all in.
I remember a story, rewritten for the time,
Where the heroes couldn't lose, and they surely couldn't win.
And the camera saw the light behind the clouds.
Whether we laughed or cried, we did it very loud.
Those photographs of you, they told a human truth
About the lives we led, and they'll still talk when memories are dead.
I remember the smell of dampened wood
And lightning storms, and sopping wet clothes.
I remember the world in memories
And I know that I must cling to those.
The pictures were in color, but we were black and white,
Shrouded in the endless possibilities of gray.
And I'll never forget the emptiness we felt,
Or the sadness that we captured and preserved that day.
And the camera saw the light behind the clouds.
Whether we laughed or cried, we did it very loud.
And those photographs could only tell the half
Of the lives we led, and they'll still talk when memories are dead.
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