A few cards and letters and one long distance call we drifted away like the leaves in the fall but year after year i come back to this place just to remember the taste strawberry wine, seventeen, the hot July moon saw everything the first taste of love, oh bittersweet the green on the vine like strawberry wine the fields have grown over now years
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Adds.
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p.s. You play French Horn therefore you are cool.
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Yes I do, I'm horrible at it, but I can play it.
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It's such a hard instrument though.
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