| Kathleen Maddox' only son
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| Hobo, tramp, nobody
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| Box car, jug o' wine
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| Straight razor get too close to me
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| Did five for robbery
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| But that’s not what she’s known around here for
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| By the time I was five school was on fire
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| She told them she couldn’t take it no more
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| They called him Creepy but he showed me how
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| To play a couple chords on the guitar
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| He also showed me how to turn a bitch out
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| A heartless trick but it took me far
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| By the end of the fifties I had all of my own
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| For a song and a sweet talk or two
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| But learning how going in and out of the system
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| Was almost the sane thing to do
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| When I got out everything’d changed
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| Easy to fool but so strange
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| Tell a hippie girl she’s pretty and she’d cry for days
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| But you give it away so you can’t make it pay, so
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| All of the girls agreed
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| That together we could make a rock star out of me
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| But then we started taking acid
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| Things really got out of hand, man
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| I don’t like looking back on those days now
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| Words we said, clothes we wore
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| I act crazy when I get asked about
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| I can’t explain how. |
| I can’t explain no more, but
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| It wasn’t only the Beatles
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| We also jammed out to the Moody Blues, man
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| Lot of music spoke to you back then, man
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| The music spoke to you back then
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| (back then, back then, back then…) |