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Post by jacksonvillekid on Nov 27, 2007 12:12:13 GMT -5
The Right Kind Of Sand He left his sweet home Alabama When nine eleven went down. He left his Les Paul with his mama She'll keep it safe and sound. She'll be there to meet him And so will his band. When he finds his way back To the right kind of sand
He needs the right kind of sand Siftin' through his toes. The sweet smell of magnolias Driftin' up to his nose. He needs the laughter of the children And the wisdom of the old. They say this lands a desert But the sand here seems cold.
In minutes the firefight was over He lay looking up at a foreign sky. In his mind he saw the Florida border Where he wanted to be when he died.
He felt the right kind of sand Siftin' through his toes. The sweet smell of magnolias Drifted up to his nose. He heard the laughter of the children He remembered the old. Suddenly this foreign sand Don't seem quite as cold.
Well God wasn't ready for this soldier He had in mind a much greater plan. So he gently set him down in a chair Told him you've got the right kind of sand
He's got the right kind of sand Running through his veins. Standing tall as any man As he rolls on off the plane. His mamas there to meet him And there's his old band. And a nation damn lucky He had the right kind of sand. Jody
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Post by jody on Dec 8, 2007 11:03:21 GMT -5
This time of year, the prayers for the boy's and girl's in the sand can really help ease their minds. God bless them all!
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