| Thought I heard a blackbird singing
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| Up on Bluebird Hill
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| Call me a whinin' boy if you will
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| Born where the sun don’t shine
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| And I don’t deny my name
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| Got no place to go, ain’t that a shame?
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| Thought I heard that KC whistle
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| Moaning sweet and low
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| Thought I heard that KC when she blow
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| Down where the sun don’t shine
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| Underneath the Kokomo
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| Whinin' boy got no place to go So many roads, I tell you
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| So many roads I know
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| So many roads, so many roads
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| Mountain high, river wide
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| So many roads to ride
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| So many roads, so many roads
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| Thought I heard a jug band playin'
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| If you don’t who else will?
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| From over on the far side of the hill
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| All I know the sun don’t shine
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| And the rain refused to fall
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| And you don’t seem to hear me when I call
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| Wind inside and the wind outside
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| Tangled in the window blind
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| Tell me why you treat me so unkind
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| Down where the sun don’t shine
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| Lonely and I call your name
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| No place left to go, ain’t that a shame?
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| So many roads, I tell you
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| New York to San Francisco
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| So many roads I know
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| All I want is one to take me home
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| From the high road to the low
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| So many roads I know
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| So many roads, so many roads
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| From the land of the midnight sun
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| Where the ice blue roses grow
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| Along those roads of gold and silver snow
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| Howlin' wide or moaning low
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| So many roads I know
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| So many roads to my soul |