| I came up from Mississippi
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| With a guitar full of songs
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| Thought I was really something
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| Maybe I was wrong
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| Got to make some money
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| Got to pay my dues
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| 'Cause if I hock my guitar
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| How the hell am I supposed to play the blues?
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| Filled out an application
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| For sweeping up the streets
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| They said I didn’t qualify
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| I couldn’t disagree
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| I got to find something
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| Something I can use
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| If I hock my guitar
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| Aw, hell, man
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| I can do without the honey or the sugar for my tea
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| These days I can do without a lot of things
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| My shark-skin suit and my Stacy Adams shoes
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| All I really want to do is play my blues
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| Had my last can of tuna
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| With some cold green beans
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| Not all that appetizing
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| But a man’s got to eat
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| Up against the wall
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| Nothing left to lose
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| If I hock my guitar
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| How the hell am I supposed play the blues? |