| Dirty old street all slushed up in the rain and snow
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| Little boy and his ma shivering outside a rundown music store window
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| That night on top of a Christmas tree shines one beautiful star
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| And lying underneath a brand-new Japanese guitar
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| I remember in the morning, ma, hearing your alarm clock ring
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| I’d lie in bed and listen to you gettin' ready for work
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| The sound of your makeup case on the sink
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| And the ladies at the office, all lipstick, perfume, and rustlin' skirts
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| And how proud and happy you always looked walking home from work
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| If pa’s eyes were windows into a world so deadly and true
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| You couldn’t stop me from looking but you kept me from crawlin' through
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| And if it’s a funny old world, mama, where a little boy’s wishes come true
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| Well I got a few left in my pocket and a special one just for you
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| It ain’t no phone call on Sunday, flowers or a mother’s day card
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| It ain’t no house on a hill with a garden and a nice little yard
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| I got my hatred down on Bond Street, I’m older but you’ll know me in a glance
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| We’ll find us a little rock 'n' roll bar and baby we’ll go out and dance
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| Well it was me in my Beatle boots, you in pink curlers and matador pants
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| Pullin' me up off the couch to do the twist for my uncles and aunts
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| Well I found a girl of my own now, ma, I popped the question on your birthday
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| She stood waiting on the front porch while you were telling me to get out there
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| And say what it was that I had to say
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| Last night we all sat around laughing at the things that guitar bought us
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| And I layed awake thinking 'bout the other things it’s brought us
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| Well tonight I’m taking requests here in the kitchen
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| This one’s for you, ma, let me come right out and say it
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| It s overdue, but baby, if you re looking for a sad song, well I ain’t gonna
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| play it |