| I’ll be the first to admit I’m a little stuck in high school
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| I rose colored those memories with drug store sunglasses
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| I never liked warm beer or cigarettes
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| But I liked watching the smoke clear the high school fence
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| I am a self-described black sheep, a self-denying sinner
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| Raised by a village of my peers in the back seats of used cars
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| It took a long time for my feet to reach the floor
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| But when they finally did I was ready for the world
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| What you get in the cradle, you keep till the grave
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| Some good men may be born they said, the better ones are made
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| So you try on every shoe and you stand in every shadow
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| Hope you find yourself somewhere between the first pew and the back row
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| But you’re always carrying around that kid
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| Whose picture’s in the hallway, eighteen and graduating
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| Did you ever make those dreams come true
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| Or is a kid still waiting?
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| Is a kid still waiting?
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| God bless the linoleum table in my daddy’s kitchen
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| If he was scared, he’d never tell, but I sure as hell did listen
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| And it don’t matter how many prayers ever came off my lips
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| I still learned how to curse just like he did
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| What you get in the cradle, you keep till the grave
|
| Some good men may be born they said, the better ones are made
|
| So you try on every shoe and you stand in every shadow
|
| Hope you find yourself somewhere between the first pew and the back row
|
| But you’re always carrying around that kid
|
| Whose picture’s in the hallway, eighteen and graduating
|
| Did you ever make those dreams come true
|
| Or is a kid still waiting?
|
| Is a kid still waiting?
|
| Is a kid still waiting?
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| I’ll be the first to admit
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| I’m a little stuck in high school |