| They say his chances could not have been better
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| All the promise of a July sun in the morning sky
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| Laughing at the peering faces
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| From the windows of a limousine
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| Caviar with the A & R and still only in his teens
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| So whatever happened?
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| I can see him now, his face lit up in neon
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| One hand up in the air as he turns towards the crowd
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| His songs of silver arrows they tried to roll into gold
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| With diamond tips from painted lips
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| Designed and ready to be sold
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| They say he could not fall off
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| They say he could not fail
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| The wealth and fame would fire his flame
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| Just as soon as his ship set sail
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| So whatever happened?
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| Whatever happened to Benny Santini?
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| Whatever happened to the guy on the wall?
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| Where did he go to if he could not fall off
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| They tell you they don’t know
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| They don’t know at all |