| Long ago in college days
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| You could measure my hand
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| By the style of my play
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| Hitchhiking home when the dollars ran low
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| I had little to do and nothing to say
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| Then the road was grafted like a mistletoe
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| To my skin and my bones
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| I just had to go
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| Then everyday and every time I stayed
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| My feet were burnin'
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| You just got to know
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| It’s a never ending show
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| Packup my toothbrush, I just got to go
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| As we slaved out west
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| On the cotton chipping
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| For the money we got
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| I knew we were slipping
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| But later speeding down the Puttee Road
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| Our heads were high
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| And our hearts were skipping
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| And we drove all day down Wallacia way
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| For three long days of music and friends
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| And we all got stoned on jungle juice and ladies
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| When the last note died
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| We hit the road again
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| And oh
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| Well I guess its never quite the same again
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| Somebody moves his money in
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| Saturday night and Tony and me
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| Packed an airline bag and headed down to the sea
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| The Duke was howlin' down in Sydney town
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| And when the Duke’s around
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| There’s just one place to be
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| And the rain came down
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| In Pitt Street in the morning
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| The air was alive with little wings
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| We slept in the car till the dawning
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| And we broke our fast like vagabond kings
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| And oh
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| Well I guess its never quite the same again
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| Somebody moves his money in
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| Well time goes on
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| And you ain’t any younger
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| Your belly gets fat
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| But you still got the hunger
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| Your friend’s get married
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| Your hair gets thin
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| You want to leave it all behind
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| And scream I’m on the road again
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| I’m on the road again
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| I’m on the road again
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| I’m on the road again
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| I’m on the road again… |