| I’m going to Chapel Hill, if you’re looking
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| I snuck out like a thief in the night
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| I’m riding the backroads through endless oak trees
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| Going further and further from sight
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| I am the boy in the schoolhouse
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| So alone in the lost countryside
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| And if you should want to come find me there
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| Oh, it may be a difficult ride
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| Ooh… it ought to make it easier on you
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| Ooh… it ought to make it easier on you
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| People out here aren’t like you
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| Not that I want them to be
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| They’re raised drinking water so gentle and clear
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| And they’ve brought out the sweetheart in me
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| Yeah, they brought out the sweetheart in me
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| I’m not like the boy you’d remember
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| I’m relaxed and I’m satisfied
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| I’ve come to terms with the object of failure
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| Setting past heartache aside
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| Ooh… it ought to make it easier on you
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| Ooh… it ought to make it easier on you
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| I’ve gone to Chapel Hill, if they ask you
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| Tell them I wish they were here
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| It was not them that I tried to escape from
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| But I dreamed of a future unclear
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| And if anyone wishes to chase me
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| It would probably do them no good
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| Because the reason I’m here is the same reason that I
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| Was someone they never understood
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| Ooh… it ought to make it easier on you
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| Ooh… it ought to make it easier on you
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| Ooh… |