| There’s a cool wind blowing in the sound of happy people
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| At a party given for the gay and debonair
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| There’s an organ blowing in the breeze
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| For the dancers hid behind the trees
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| But I ain’t never gonna see
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| What’s shakin' on the hill
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| That I someday may be joining in is just wishful thinking
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| Cause admission’s only guaranteed to favored few
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| There’s a waiting list and plenty more
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| In a long line leading to the door
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| So I’ll never know for sure
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| What’s shakin' on the hill
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| I’m too blue to be played with
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| And I get heartaches
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| So they tell me no dice
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| It isn’t allowed
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| In that carefree crowd
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| To be seen with tears in your eyes
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| So I make out I don’t wanna know but I’m the pretender
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| Kicking cans 'round while that happy sound keeps cracking on
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| Though I long so strong to be inside
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| With the blues is where I do reside
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| So I’ll forever be denied
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| What’s shakin' on the hill
|
| Though I long so strong to be inside
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| With the blues is where I do reside
|
| So I’ll forever be denied
|
| What’s shakin' on the hill
|
| What’s shakin' on the hill
|
| What’s shakin' on the hill
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| What’s shakin', what’s shakin', what’s shakin', what’s shakin', shakin' on the
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| hill
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| What’s shakin' on the hill |