| Way down south I know a girl who is blind
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| She walks alone along a lonely highway each day
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| She dreams that one day a man will pull up in a car
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| He’ll open up the door, she’ll climb in and he will say:
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| «Hey babe, whatcha know? |
| Hope you’re ready to go
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| 'Cause today’s a perfect day to chase tornados.»
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| Yeah when the wild wind whips around your head you know, that you have found a
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| perfect day to chase tornados
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| And what about that preacher man on the run from the law?
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| He killed a girl in Memphis and ran 'till the dogs tracked him down
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| They shot him by the river and as he lay dying in the mud
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| Well someone asked him, «Hey, Preacher, where’s your soul going now?»
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| And Preacher said, «Well, I do not know, but wherever it is I’ll gladly go…
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| 'Cause today’s a perfect day to chase tornados.»
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| Yeah when the wild wind kicks around your head you know, that you have found a
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| perfect day to chase tornados
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| Sometimes I think that the sky is a prison and the earth is a grave
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| And sometimes I feel like Jesus, in some Chinese opera
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| And sometimes I’m glad I built my mansion from crazy little stones
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| But sometimes I feel so goddamned trapped by everything that I know
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| And I wish it wasn’t so, cause the only thing that anyone should ever know
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| Is that today’s a perfect day to chase tornados
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| Yeah, when the wild wind whips around your head you know
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| That you have found a perfect day to chase tornados |