| He was a poor boy, raised in a small family
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| He kinda had a craving for somethin' no one else could see
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| They say that he was crazy,
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| The kind that no lady should meet
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| He ran out to the city and wandered around in the street
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| He wants to dance, oh yeah,
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| He wants to sing, oh yeah,
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| He wants to see the lights a flashin' and listen
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| to the thunder ring
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| He saw it in a window
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| The mark of a new kind of man
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| He kinda liked the feeling, so shiny and smooth in his hand
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| He took it to the country and practiced for days without rest
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| And then one day he felt if,
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| He knew he could stand with the best
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| They got respect, oh yeah,
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| He wants the same, oh yeah,
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| And it’s a certain kind of fool who
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| Like to hear the sound of his own name
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| Oo…
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| A poster on a storefront, the picture of a wanted man
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| He had a reputation spreading like fire throught the land
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| It wasn’t for the money, at least it didn’t start that way
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| It wasn’t for the runnin', but now he’s runnin' everyday |