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January back in '55 we rode a Greyhound bus through the Georgia midnight
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Grandpa was sleeping and the winter sky was clear
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We hit a bump and his head jerked back a little and he mumbled something
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He woke up smiling, but his eyes were bright with tears
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Said, "I dreamed I was back on the farm...
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20 years have passed, boy, but the memory still warms me...
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Wildflowers in a Mason Jar..."
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He told me those old stories about that one-room cabin in Kentucky
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The smell of the rain and the warm earth in his hands
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He slowly turned and stared outside; his face was mirrored in the window
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And his reflection flew across the moonlit land
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And he dreamed he was back on the farm
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Tilts his head and listens to the early sound of morning
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Wildflowers in a Mason Jar
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An old man and an eight-year-old boy rolling down that midnight highway
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Kentucky memories from a winter Georgia night
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I started drifting off and Grandpa tucked his coat around me
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I think I tried to smile as I slowly closed my eyes
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And I dreamed I was with him on the farm
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"Grandpa, I can hear the evening wind out in the corn...
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Wildflowers in a Mason Jar...
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Wildflowers in a Mason Jar...
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Wildflowers in a Mason Jar..."
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And the bus rolled through the night...
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