| On records the sound just fades away
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| The players they grow smaller and smaller
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| They return to their homes in the wires
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| With one last riff and one last holler
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| And did you ever make it in tha big city, pal?
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| Or did you crash down in some rainy alleyway?
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| I saw six angels wrapping you up in newspaper
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| Ah, but that might have been a dream
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| I used to lie awake when I was five years old
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| By the Motorola radio
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| I was tryin' so hard not to go to sleep
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| So I’d know where those little people go
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| And on records the sound jus' fades away
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| The players they grow smaller and smaller and smaller
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| The return to their homes in the wires and the wax and the cassettes and
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| The chips
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| With one last little riff and one last little holler
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| Sayin' somethin like:
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| Baby I want you, baby I need you, baby I love you, oh baby I do
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| Baby I want you, baby I need you, baby I love ya, oh baby I do
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| And their little outfits get smaller and smaller
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| An' their little guitars get tiny, tiny, tiny
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| And their little waa-waa pedals get down 'bout the size of a match head
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| An' fade away
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| An' even their little semi-trucks, well they get tiny, tiny
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| An' their lttle tour buses get smaller…
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| Fade away
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| They all gotta go back to LA
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| They got a big important business meeting tomorrow morning
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| In a 25 storey building but it’s tiny, tiny, tiny
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| Gotta go back to LA
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| I hear them singin' it as they cross the Rockies
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| Baby I want you, Baby I love ya', Baby I need you, Baby I do |