| Well I spent my whole life since I was high as a knee
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| By that two-lane blacktop they call Route 23
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| My daddy ran a service station
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| And the pumps they did shine
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| I’d watch him wash the windshields, keep the old look to that mind
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| Well the days they were long, but the money was good
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| The only things that changed were the seasons and the shapes of the moon
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| 'Til the government came on the radio in late '55
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| Said the state’s gonna build a new highway
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| One that’s fast, smooth and wide
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| With that new highway, no one stops here anymore
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| And you can’t make living without swinging that door
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| The sign by the roadside still says «Come On In»
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| But the bulbs are long since burnt out, not to light up again
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| Now daddy was as stubborn as a mule in the snow
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| He said, «Good folks return to the places that they know»
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| But after the gravel arrived and those steamrollers whined
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| All those good folks left me and daddy
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| And those two lanes behind
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| With that new highway, no one stops here anymore
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| And you can’t make living without swinging that door
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| The sign by the roadside still says «Come On In»
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| But the bulbs are long since burnt out, not to light up again
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| Now the calendar on the wall still reads 19 and 75
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| No one crossed out the day that my daddy died
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| We laid him in the ground 'neath that old sycamore tree
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| That shades a boarded up gas station out on Route 23
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| With that new highway, no one stops here anymore
|
| And you can’t make living without swinging that door
|
| The sign by the roadside still says «Come On In»
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| But the bulbs are long since burnt out, not to light up again
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| Yeah, the bulbs are long since burnt out, not to light up again |