| I’m spinning like an old turn table
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| Three speeds going nowhere fast
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| I hesitate at the door to the future
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| Holding on to my bitter-sweet past
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| Me and all of the percolators
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| Me and all of the rotary phones
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| Me and all of my vinyl records
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| Warped and scratched and out of date
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| 33,45,78 goodbye
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| I got friends from the old home town
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| We used to work at the home town news
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| They got houses in a couple of cities
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| I’m still singing the home town blues
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| Me and all of the drive in movies
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| Me and all of the afternoon papers
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| Me and the free-form radio
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| Fading in and out of date
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| 33,45,78 going gone now
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| I hear them talk about the great depression
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| I hear the drumming of the war machine
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| I wonder if I’m stuck in the past
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| Or if it all repeats just like a CD
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| I’m following the railroad line
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| It’s another job and another town
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| I skip around in record time
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| And try not to notice the candle burn down
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| Me and all of the rust belt workers
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| Me and all of the hot-type printers
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| Me and all of the family farms
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| Auctioned off and out of date
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| Whoa the percolators
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| Whoa the rotary phones
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| All of my vinyl records
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| Warped and scratched and out of date
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| Yeah I’m a 33,45,78 |