| Yeah, gunna sing a song about the blues,
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| and man and his hallucinations.
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| Oh the rust stains in my pathway,
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| and the gravestones of my here say say.
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| I been crammed up my byway,
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| as the milestones of every every day,
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| but the truth is here to find,
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| and I’m gunna make it mine,
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| and I’ll find it my way.
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| Oh jealousy reeks with pain and time,
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| but why are so many good eyes blind?
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| Will they ever stop a fightin’long enough to find,
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| their way to happiness and peace of mind?
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| Or will they end up eatin’the flesh of their own kind?
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| Oh, I don’t wear no uniform,
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| yeah, and I don’t carry a gun.
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| But I can tell you many many wars,
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| that I have lost and won.
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| Yeah, and my friends might as me,
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| what color are these blues?
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| And then I might say,
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| black is their color, black as any ordinary day.
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| (Repeat Chorus)
|
| (Repeat 1st verse) |