| My best friend lived in this house
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| And we played ball in the street after school
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| God knows how he’s living now
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| I heard his mom lost the house and had to move
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| And sure, it’s looking better these days
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| Well it’s hard to believe
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| And this ain’t the way it was back in 1993
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| And those weren’t better days
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| But they still meant something to me
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| When we was kids out in the streets
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| Now there was a market on the corner, it was next to the car wash
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| And lazy weeping willow across the street in the light
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| Where the old men played dominoes on those hot summer days
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| Sweatin' the Wild Irish Rose out in the shade
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| And from Wedgewood to Granny White
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| Oh, and, Belmont to 8th
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| All these songs was broke into a host of sights and shapes
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| And that was lower-end livin'
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| Back when life was cheap
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| When we was kids out in the streets
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| Now it’s gone, blown on a lonely wind of change
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| Now I feel like I miss it most
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| Just 'cause I never thought that it could change
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| So I hear things are moving west these days
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| Same old cut and pasting, just filling the blanks
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| Standing here right now, though it brings a lot of pain
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| I smile when I think, yesterday
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| Back when life was something
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| Like 1, 2, 3
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| When we was kids out in the streets |