| I’ve been Banana’d, Cabaret’d, stuffed in a truck for days
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| Leathered out, flannel’d in, paid to play, thought we’d win
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| The talent show that would break the band
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| Wrote the words that hit the fan
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| Flogged and prog’d, revival’d to death
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| Released and reviewed and signed with the best!
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| Leave me out, I’ve had my fill
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| Stand on my own, I’ve been through it all
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| I’ve been AOR’d, alternadised, heavy-metal'd, acousticised
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| Pickled to an amber hue and never lied to me or you
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| To get ahead or create a vibe, for sympathy to romanticize
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| How hard it is to rock 'n roll
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| To be a pawn or gain control
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| It seems that lately we’ve become quite the target
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| Dodging verbal traffic, oh the fun of it
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| Our job is now writing, performing, and enduring
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| And I’d have to be lying if I denied loving it (shake it down)
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| I love it, I eat it, I starve it then I feed it
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| It spins my head and moves my toes
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| You can smell the beat it tickles my nose
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| It fills my gut and gets my goat
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| It sinks my ship and floats my boat
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| Don’t let it take you out too far
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| Or change the you, you really are
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| Step up and see the band
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| Play favorites from one night stands
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| A resume of four golden years
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| When the cheese stood alone
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| So heigh-ho the dairy-o
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| I’m tickled pink and don’t you know
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| To love the things we plant and grow
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| Is a treasure hard to find
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| Looking back my credit was never shaky
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| I may have burned a few bridges here and there
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| Looking back I’ve seen the serpent and his offer
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| The weasel in his hole, the leech on the wound
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| The sly old cat wants the rat
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| The rat he aims to please
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| But back and forth they never see
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| The cheese stands alone
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| So heigh-ho the dairy-o
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| I’m tickled pink and don’t you know
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| To love the things we plant and grow
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| Is a treasure hard to find
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| Looking back I can’t help but look forward
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| There’s so much life, there’s so much more
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| Everyone has so much to offer
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| You’re crazy to ignore it, you’re crazy not to try |