| There’s a part of the country could drop off tomorrow in an earthquake
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| Yeah it’s out there on the cutting edge, the people move, the sidwalks shake
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| And there’s another part of the country with a land that gently creaks and thuds
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| Where the heavy snows make faucets leak in bathrooms with free-standing tubs
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| They’re in houses that are haunted, the with kids who lie awake and think about
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| All the generations past who used to use that dripping sink
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| And sometimes one place wants to slip into the other just to see
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| What it’s like to trade its demons for the restless ghost of Mrs. Ogilvey
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| She used to pick the mint from her front yard to dress the Sunday pork
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| Sometimes southern California wants to be western New York
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| It wants to have a family business in sheet metal or power tools
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| It wants to have a diner where the coffee tastes like diesel fuel
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| And it wants to find the glory of a town they say has hit the skids
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| And it wants to have a snow day that will turn its parents into kids
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| And it’s embarrassed, but it’s lusting after a SUNY student with mousy brown
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| hair who is
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| Taking out the compost, making coffee in long underwear
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| And southern California says to save a place, I’ll meet you there
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| And it tried to pack up its Miata, all it could fit was a prayer
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| Sometimes the stakes are bogus, sometimes the fast lane hits a fork
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| Sometimes southern California wants to be western New York
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| Tempe, Arizona thinks the Everglades are greener and wetter
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| And Washington, D. C. thinks that Atlanta integrated better
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| But I think that southern California has more pain that we can say
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| Cause it wants to travel back in time, but it just can’t leave L. A
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| But now I hear they’ve got a theme park planned, designed to make you gasp and
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| say
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| Oh, I bet that crumbling mill town was a booming mill town in its day
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| And the old investors scoff at this, but the young ones hope they’ll take a
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| chance
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| And they promise it will make more dough than Mickey Mouse in northern France
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| And the planners planned an opening day, a town historian will host
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| And the waitresses look like waitresses who want to leave for the west coast
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| And they’ll have puttering on rainy weekends, autumn days that make you feel sad
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| They’ll have hundred year old plumbing and the family you never had
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| And a Hudson River clean-up concert and a bundle-bearing stork
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| And I hear they’ve got a menu planned, it’s trés western New York |