| People tell me all the time I’m foolish
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| Tell me that my way’s got a ways to go
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| Tell me that I’m holding back my progress
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| And think they have the answers to my soul
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| Tell me everything I do is wrong
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| They even tell me how to sing my songs
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| They mustn’t know that my life — well it is my own
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| I go down the road I choose to go
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| I was meant to go
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| People tell me all the time, «take it slow»
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| But I’m almost home
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| I’m almost home
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| Almost home, almost home
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| When they tell me all the time that reggae
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| Is nothing but a one-drop and bubble
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| Tell me that I’m awkward when I’m skanking
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| And think they have a dance above my own
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| They tell me everything I write is wrong
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| And they will never try to sing along
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| They mustn’t know that I am, well, I’m not alone
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| I go down the road I choose to go
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| I was meant to go
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| People tell me all the time, «take it slow»
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| But I’m almost home
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| I’m almost home
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| Almost home, almost home
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| Home — It’s where the heart is
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| I can’t stop it
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| Oh home, it’s where the heart is
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| And I won’t stop this
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| My home is where…
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| I go down the road I choose to go
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| I was meant to go
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| People tell me all the time, «take it slow»
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| But I’m almost home
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| I’m almost home
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| Almost home, almost home |