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Eleven

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I counted 11 mourning doves
On the telephone line
In the alley where I grew up
I counted 11 and then they all flew away
It would have been beautiful; it could have been something if they stayed
We used to chase cars
Play baseball, and run in the blue dark
We used to play games and laugh and cry
We drank Kool-Aid and thought we’d never say goodbye
I counted 11 mourning doves, but they flew away
And since then, times have changed
We chase boys, but still run bases
We laugh and cry; we have phases.
We drink, but it isn't milk anymore
11 mourning doves have left and now I must shut that door.




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