| Captain Fantastic raised and regimented, hardly a hero
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| Just someone his mother might know
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| Very clearly a case of corn flakes and classics
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| Two teas both with sugar please, in the back of an alley
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| While little Dirt Cowboys turned brown in their saddles
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| Sweet chocolate biscuits and red rosy apples in summer
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| For it’s hay make and, hey mom, do the papers say anything good?
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| Are there chances in life for little Dirt Cowboys?
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| Should I make my way out of my home in the woods?
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| Brown Dirt Cowboy, still green and growing, city slick Captain
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| Fantastic the feedback, the honey the hive could be holding
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| For there’s weak winged young sparrows that starve in the winter
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| Broken young children on wheels of the winner
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| And the sixty-eight summer festival wallflowers are thinning
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| For cheap easy meals and hardly a home on the range
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| Too hot for the band with a desperate desire for change
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| We’ve thrown in the towel too many times out for the count
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| And when we’re down Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy
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| From the end of the world to your town
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| And all this talk of Jesus coming back to see us couldn’t fool us For we were spinning out our lines walking on the wire, hand in hand
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| Went Music and the rhyme, the Captain and the Kid stepping in the ring
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| From here on sonny, sonny, sonny, it’s a long and lonely climb
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| For cheap easy meals and hardly a home on the range
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| Too hot for the band with a desperate desire for change
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| We’ve thrown in the towel too many times out for the count
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| When we’re down Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy
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| From the end of the world to your town
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| We’ve thrown in the towel too many times out for the count
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| And when we’re down Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy
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| From the end of the world to your town |