The birthday card I never sent

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Would've been great, I'm telling you

The works, all sorts of stuff you would've liked

If I had known anything about you

Sure I'd hide behind layers of superior moral right
Claiming the injustice of flimsy paper and few words
Or else blabber about laziness, bad timing, or any other inopportunity I once could have conceived
But I wish I'd've sent one if it meant nothing like this

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