| when he was a boy
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| he played with his toys
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| in the back of the bush
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| where he once used to hide
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| he rarely thought
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| life would follow a plot
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| to become what his parents
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| would never find right
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| dad at his age
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| had his newspaper rage
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| never leaving a page
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| out of his sight
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| mother was cooking
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| always good looking
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| taking her boy to church every sunday
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| ‘cos they wished for their boy all the best in the world
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| luminous diamonds and sparkling gold, oh Lord
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| they never forgot to take care of their hope
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| good looking gardens and fashionable clothes, oh Lord
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| as the boy got older
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| took his mom by the shoulder
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| and this is what he told her:
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| «i see through your code»
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| not long after dinner
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| he felt as a winner
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| packing his bag
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| and hitting the road
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| the parents were grieving
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| the road it was weaving
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| uphill to the east
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| like a tale of a dog
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| he didn’t look back
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| at the past that was wack
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| at least that was something that stuck in his mind
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| ‘cos he thought he knew better what is best in the world
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| to fill up the sentence with his own words, for sure
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| he never forgot to take care of his hope
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| to play his own music with his own chords, for sure
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| when he was tired and restless
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| he couldn’t fall asleep
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| he craved to sail the ocean
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| others see too deep
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| his foolishness is lazy
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| and so is sanity
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| he saw the world as endless
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| adventures of the free
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| so, he didn’t look back
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| at the past that seemed wack
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| as he got to the top of the hill he stopped
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| took a deep breath and ran right before
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| he jumped into freedom and tasted its glamour
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| nights that made sick to his stomach
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| «freeyourmind» sessions with hippies all summer
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| he’s been behind bars in stripped pajamas
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| sang hallelujah and hare rama
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| he met the pope and dalailamaate with osama and ms. |
| obama
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| felt the cold in siberia and heat in bahamas
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| the further he went the more he missed dad&mama
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| missed dad&mama.
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| passing the bush
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| where he once used to hide
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| he’s at the door
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| about to step inside
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| the house he has left
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| many years ago
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| now, the circle is done
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| like it was his goal
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| his foolishness was lazy
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| and so was sanity
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| he saw the world as endless
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| adventures of the free
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| the story is over
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| but then it continues
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| simply just like they sing in the blues
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| if no one sends a letter
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| you were not receiving
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| you can’t go home
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| if you were never leaving |