| My luggage packed a little hollow
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| It’s for travel funds I begged for, stolen or borrowed
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| Last day of my journey and I’m unsure what follows
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| But I ain’t fallin' asleep because I’m going home tomorrow
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| And I’d love to stay forever and a day
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| But I gotta pack it up and get on the next plane
|
| And I learn a lot from wherever I stay
|
| But no one ever really seems to get it when I say
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| That Adelaide is my very own
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| Home, cult city with the churches where I roam
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| A place that you might never go, but fall in love
|
| If you get to know it enough, so allow me to set the tone
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| State of the festivals, when it’s burning up here
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| 'Cause you ain’t had a summer this hot till you come near
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| Home of some of the best beaches that you’ll ever see
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| The same shores that they used to turn away the refugees
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| Spread knowledge but a little love is all that we need to grow
|
| Epidemic with ice and most of us ain’t seen the snow
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| Still I carry on moving with what I need to know
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| I love this city but once in a while you need to go and
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| Pack a couple things in your carry on
|
| Not too much, it’s just to carry on
|
| Lemme take you to a place that I call home
|
| We could spend a couple days 'fore we carry on
|
| Pack a couple things in the carry on
|
| Not too much, it’s just to carry on
|
| Lemme take you to a place that I call home
|
| We could spend a couple days 'fore we carry on
|
| Carry on, carry on
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| Carry on and on and on
|
| Carry on, carry on
|
| Carry on, on and on
|
| Chicago, that’s my very own
|
| Ho cops shoot kids and they carry on
|
| We gon' burn this bitch down like
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| P.E., «Welcome to the Terrordome»
|
| The Windy City is a tale of two sides
|
| Somewhere in the middle, the truth resides
|
| Out west you can see the poverty in they eyes
|
| Down south you can smell the gun smoke in the skies
|
| Up north is a disguise, the party is live
|
| You almost forgot this is where
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| Got assassinated in his own sheets
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| Then a black roses grew from the concrete
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| Born in Hawaii but developed 'round my street
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| The first black president lived around me
|
| Yeah, I pack the carry on, get the
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| I got a spot on the lake we could get married on
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| The best food in the world, there’s no comparison
|
| I welcome you to my own lil scary home
|
| Now unpack come on
|
| Carry on, carry on
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| Carry on and on and on
|
| Carry on, carry on
|
| Carry on, on and on
|
| Carry on, carry on
|
| Carry on and on and on
|
| Carry on, carry on
|
| Carry on, on and on |