| There used to be a place where I would run
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| Down by the little stream
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| Where I could dream of things to come
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| It doesn’t seem like twenty years ago
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| But there’s eight lanes of concrete
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| Running over my old back road
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| They’re tearing my little town down
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| Stone by stone, ground by ground
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| Men used to work in that old factory
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| Now they just stand around
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| Don’t tear it down
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| I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised
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| It’s all in the name of progress
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| But it seems like suicide
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| They say you can never go back again
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| And I feel like I’m saying goodbye
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| Oh, to my only friend
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| They’re tearing my little town down
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| Stone by stone, ground by ground
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| We turn away so we don’t have to see
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| But we can’t shut out that sound
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| Don’t tear it down
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| There used to be a place where I would go
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| And except for some old photographs
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| It’s a place my kids never will know
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| A cold wind blows across the setting sun
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| And I worry about the future
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| When the past is under the gun
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| They’re tearing my little town down
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| Stone by stone, ground by ground
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| And it was here before my father was
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| He’s buried in this ground
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| Don’t tear it down |