| Grandpa came over on the boat
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| His voice was thick with the old world and smoke
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| And ran in Chicago, 'til he met my grandma
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| The he moved to South Bend with his new 14 year old bride
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| So mamma and Louie and the rest of the family
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| Lived in a duplex next to my great grandma Baldoni
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| And believed in the hopes that can grow in a country
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| Even after my grandma and grandpa went their separate ways
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| He said «Love who you are, love what it’s meant
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| Live out your love like a new immigrant»
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| My dad drove a mile truck before he was 14
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| Came back from Korea in 1953
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| Met up with my mother, introduced by his sister
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| They put a dime in the juke box, took a turn on the dance floor
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| He said «Love who you are, love what it’s meant
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| Live out your love like a new immigrant»
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| So I came along after one and before another
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| Grew up on the Beatles and Jack Kennedy’s murder
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| I went looking for something in more than one country
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| Fell in love once or twice, broke my heart, but I’d try it again
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| So this is the new world, not the old world
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| Let me lie close beside you and whisper have you heard
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| The sound of the singing from some bright new country
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| And catch it’s been calling us home to it lately
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| So «love who you are, love what it’s meant
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| Live out your love like a new immigrant» |