| The people that you meet
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| When you walk down the street
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| Turn their eyes away
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| And hurry by on trembling feet
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| Confusion takes a pill
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| Paranoia takes a shot
|
| As helpless as a new idea
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| You don’t know what you got
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| But no need to cry, my baby
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| No need to cry
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| 'Cause pop will still be singing you
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| Another lullaby
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| The box is full of dope tales
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| Deaf old maids sing out of tune
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| Blind men argue what they see
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| Bob Hope is on the moon
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| Animals are news
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| Pigs and doves and hawks alike
|
| For the first time in your life
|
| You know your left from your right
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| But no need to cry, poor baby
|
| No need to cry
|
| 'Cause pop will still be singing you
|
| A ducky lullaby
|
| Here goes
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| Now Jesus is a hit on Top 40 radio
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| But if the drake chews bubblegum
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| Then the duck will steal the show
|
| And the Motor City’s old clichés
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| Are pounding at your brain
|
| Finders, keepers, pay to the piper
|
| It’s driving you insane
|
| But no need to cry, poor baby
|
| No need to cry
|
| 'Cause pop will still be singing you
|
| A ducky lullaby
|
| Well sing it |