| I saw Willie Mays
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| At a Scottsdale Home Depot
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| Looking at Garage Door Springs
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| At the far end of the 14th row
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| His wife stood there beside him
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| She was quiet and they both were proud
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| I gave them room but was close enough
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| That I heard him when he said out loud
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| This was my country
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| This was my song
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| Somewhere in the middle there
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| Though it started badly and it’s ending wrong
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| This was my country
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| This frightful and this angry land
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| But it’s my right if the worst of it might
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| Still somehow make me a better man
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| The sun is unforgiving and
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| There’s nobody who would choose this town
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| But we’ve squandered so much of our good will
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| That there’s nowhere else will have us now
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| We push in line at the picture show
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| For cool air and a chance to see
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| A vision of ourselves portrayed as Younger and braver and humble and free.
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| This was our country
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| This was our song
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| Somewhere in the middle there
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| Though it started badly and it’s ending wrong
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| This was our country
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| This frightful and this angry land
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| But it’s my right if the worst of it might
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| Still somehow make me a better man
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| I’ve started something I can’t finish
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| And I barely leave the house it’s true
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| I keep her out on my sores and joints
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| But I’ve guess I’ve had my blessings too
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| I’ve got my mother’s pretty feet
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| And a factory keeps my house in shade
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| My children they’ve both been paroled
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| And we get back all the peace we’ve made
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| I feel safe so far from heaven
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| From towers and their ocean views
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| From here I see the future coming
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| Across what soon will be beaches too
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| But that was him I’m almost sure
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| The greatest center-fielder of all time
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| Stooped by the burden of endless dreams
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| His and yours and mine
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| He hooked each spring beneath his feet
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| He leaned over then he stood upright
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| Testing each against his weight
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| For one that had some play and some fight
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| He’s just like us I want to tell him
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| And our needs are small enough
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| Something to slow our heavy door
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| Something to help us raise one up This was my country
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| This was my song
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| Somewhere in the middle there
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| Though it started badly and it’s ending wrong
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| This was God’s country
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| This frightful and this angry land
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| But if it’s his will the worst of it might
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| Still somehow make me a better man
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| If it’s his will the worst of it might
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| Still somehow make me a better man |