| I envy the quiet lives that for all I know don’t exist
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| Outside of a lazy book that won a Pulitzer Prize
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| I picked up 'cause you said it opened up your eyes.
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| I’m wired now and will be 'til I find a person who could eat at the Empire Grill
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| Who’s seen a black mercedes at the textile mill
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| and spreads the word to all the folks expression hasn’t killed.
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| I’ll follow that car down to Boston, and ask what it wanted in Maine.
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| Coffee at least for my trouble, and I’ll be a hero if I came back with
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| something to say. |
| ..
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| Too late, they wouldn’t like me there
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| and though they might not mind my inquisitive stare,
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| every single one of them is too polite to care
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| why I’m enchanted by a way of life in disrepair,
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| but I’m not taking apple pie eating, Jack and Coke drinking, hopeful lie
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| telling, anywhere,
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| America, through camera eyes, On a Hollywood body that could make you all cry.
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| Maybe I’ll go to the movies (a comedy would be ideal.
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| Something that probably won’t happen) 'cause this made up town is much too real. |