| When I was only seventeen, couldn’t wait for twenty one
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| I’d hang around on Clayton Street in the bars there gettin' drunk
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| A baseball cap and a fake ID would get me in the clubs
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| Then I would dance with the college girls and lie about who I was
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| I’d say «I'm pre-Med. |
| here at UGA, live on Milledge Avenue
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| I was raised over in Buckhead, I drive a BMW.»
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| I was breakin' hearts and takin' names and numbers just for fun
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| Stealin' kisses wishin' I was twenty one
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| When Thursdays came and pocket change would quickly disappear
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| Upstairs at Lowry’s Tavern, we’d pay a nickel for every beer
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| Shootin' pool, smokin' cigarettes with a dizzy head and a grin
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| Four A.M. |
| on a school night, still hangin' out with my friends
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| One hour’s sleep on a dirty couch, no shower, off to school
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| Smellin' just like a brewery with a bad hangover too
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| The teachers all would hassle me: «Stay awake, pay attention»
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| I was catchin' hell, wishin' I was twenty one
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| The youngest one of all my friends, I didn’t act my age
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| Too cool for the football games and the homecoming parades |
| Now I look back and I have to smile, cause boy it was fun
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| Bein' seventeen, wishin' I was twenty one
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| Now I’m only twenty six, feelin' more like fourty three
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| My hairline’s disappearing, and I never get ID’d
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| My clothes are out of fashion, no I’m not cool anymore
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| In the bed by ten o’clock each night, and up at half-past four
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| Still I go down to that college town when the Bulldogs play at home
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| I drink keg beer from a trash can til the whole damn thing is gone
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| Then I look at all those college girls so innocent and young
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| And I just check 'em out, and say «Damn… I wish I was twenty one» |