| Goodbye Carolina
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| I felt cold and I felt weak
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| Took a midnight bus from Asheville
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| Passed like a ghost through Tennessee
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| Brushed the northern edge of Blacksburg
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| Like the hair off of your cheeks
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| I wish I could fall asleep, half-dead in the window seat;
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| Awake for weeks
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| Good morning Manhattan
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| Stopped at Port Authority
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| I’ll take a train under the river
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| Ride the A out to the G
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| And I’ll walk along your narrow streets
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| With a dollar cup of coffee
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| Letting it stain my teeth
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| Two sugars, a drop of cream
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| Bittersweet
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| God damn, I missed you Brooklyn
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| Caught my breath here on your streets
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| I left my winter coat in Charlotte
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| And I’m cursing at the breeze
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| I’m hiding out from early March
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| Read the sign hung in our lobby
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| Elevator broke last week
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| I walk the stairs to 403
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| I don’t blame you for changing the locks
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| I think I’d probably do the same if it were me
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| Now I’m gathering up the courage to knock
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| Not sure what I’m looking for
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| I don’t know what I want
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| Do I want anything?
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| I don’t want anything
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| Well some college student answers
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| And my heart crash-lands on the floor
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| He says he sublet this place last month
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| He never heard of me before
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| Well he sees me there collapsing
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| And he opens up the door
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| It’s all new furniture; |
| I barely recognize it anymore
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| He says, «I'm sorry, man. |
| I wish that I knew more
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| I’m not sure exactly what you’re looking for
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| But no Dianne, no, she don’t live here anymore»
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| Anymore, anymore, anymore
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| Dianne don’t live here anymore |