| They shot a movie once, in my hometown
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| Everybody was in it, from miles around
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| Out at the speedway, some kind of Elvis thing
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| Well I ain’t no movie star
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| But I can get behind anything
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| Yea I can get behind anything
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| Get it out, get it all out
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| Yea stretch that thing
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| Make it last, make it last
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| At least until the supper bell rings
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| Well the taxi driver likes his rhythm
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| Never likes the stops
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| Throes of passion, throes of passion
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| When something just threw him off
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| Chorus
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| sometimes the faster it gets
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| the less you need to know
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| but you gotta remember
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| the smarter it gets
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| the further its gonna go
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| when you blow at high dough
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| when you blow at high dough
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| Whoa baby I feel fine
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| I’m pretty sure it’s genuine
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| It makes no sense, no it makes no sense
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| But I’ll take it free anytime
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| Whoever fits her usually gets her
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| It was the strangest thing how she’d move so fast, move so fast
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| Into that wedding ring
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| Chorus
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| Out at the speedway, same Elvis thing
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| Well I can’t catch her, but I can get behind anything
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| Yea I can get behind anything
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| Well I can get behind anything |