| I wouldn’t make a sound if I wasn’t
|
| So angry
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| I wouldn’t be running if there wasn’t so far
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| To go
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| I wouldn’t keep on if there wasn’t something
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| Worth keeping
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| I want to believe that
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| This mountain can be moved
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| But this is only a song…
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| It can’t change the world
|
| I get a little scared when I’m driving through
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| The ghetto
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| There’s a part of me
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| That wants to hide;
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| There’s a part of me
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| That wants to move in. Because even though
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| I grew up in the suburbs, I didn’t really grow
|
| Until I learned how so many others lived
|
| But this is only a song…
|
| It can’t change the world
|
| I’m digging, digging deep
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| In myself
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| But who needs a shovel
|
| When you have a little boy like mine?
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| This ain’t the world
|
| That I want to give him;
|
| People racing around in cars
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| And cities you can’t even walk across
|
| This is only a song…
|
| It can’t change the world
|
| I’ve been thinking about Providence-
|
| And craving a Root Beer Float
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| I didn’t make these rules, but it’s come time for us
|
| To row this boat!
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| And on the horizon I see windmills
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| Spouting up in rows
|
| There’s young folks farming, and a few
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| That are going to vote
|
| But this is only a song…
|
| It can’t change the world
|
| So why try?
|
| Why even sing at all?
|
| I picture the Harlem Globetrotters dancing
|
| Like mosquitoes with a basketball
|
| Because there is beauty in freedom
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| And folks like me came over on boats
|
| Flew in on planes, crawled under fences
|
| And fought wars, just to find a place
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| To be free
|
| But this is only a song…
|
| It can’t change the world
|
| This is only a song…
|
| It can’t change the world
|
| This is only a song…
|
| It can’t change the world |