| There’s a black man with a black cat
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| Living in a black neighbourhood
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| He’s got an interstate runnin' through his front yard
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| You know, he think, that he’s got it so good
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| And there’s a woman in the kitchen cleanin' up the evening slop
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| And he looks at her and says: hey darling, I can remember when you could stop a
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| clock
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| Oh but ain’t that America for you and me
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| Ain’t that America we’re something to see baby
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| Ain’t that America, home of the free
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| Little pink houses for you and me
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| Well there’s a young man in a t-shirt
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| Listening to a rockin' rollin' station
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| He’s got a greasy hair, greasy smile
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| He says: lord, this must be my destination
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| 'cuz they told me, when I was younger
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| Boy, you’re gonna be president
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| But just like everything else, those old crazy dreams
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| Just kinda came and went
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| Well there’s people and more people
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| What do they know know know
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| Go to work in some high rise
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| And vacation down at the gulf of Mexico
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| Ohhh yeah
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| And there’s winners, and there’s losers
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| But they ain’t no big deal
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| 'cuz the simple man baby pays for the thrills
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| The bills and the pills that kill |