| Pack up all your dishes.
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| Make note of all good wishes.
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| Say goodbye to the landlord for me.
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| That son of a bitch has always bored me.
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| Throw out them LA papers
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| And that moldy box of vanilla wafers.
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| Adios to all this concrete.
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| Gonna get me some dirt road back street
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| If I can just get off of this LA freeway
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| Without getting killed or caught
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| I’d be down that road in a cloud of smoke
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| For some land that I ain’t bought bought bought
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| Here’s to you old skinny Dennis
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| Only one I think I will miss
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| I can hear that old bass singing
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| Sweet and low like a gift you’re bringin'
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| Play it for me just one more time now
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| Got to give it all we can now
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| I beleive everything your saying
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| Just keep on, keep on playing
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| And you put the pink card in the mailbox
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| Leave the key in the old front door lock
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| They will find it likely as not
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| I’m sure there’s somethin’we have forgot
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| Oh Susanna, don’t you cry, babe
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| Love’s a gift that’s surely handmade
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| We’ve got something to believe in Dontcha’think it’s time we’re leavin'
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| Repeat ½ of verse 1 |