| She was a hummingbird’s song
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| She fluttered her wings but she would not come in I threw my weight at the door
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| But she held her ground and she would not give in Some days I’m better than most
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| Most days I’m tied to the post
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| What’s so bad in being bad?
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| Bad is bad, and boy, that’s a fact
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| She said she was born a traveler
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| I said I knew as she ran out the door
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| Our love is like old money
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| Somewhere out there, somewhere out in the past
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| She was a hummingbird’s song
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| She fluttered and danced but she would not come in Though I don’t think of her daily
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| I praise the Lord that I never made it Most days I’m better than most
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| Some days I’m tied to the post
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| What’s so bad in being bad?
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| Well, bad is bad, and boy, that’s a fact
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| Some days I’m better than most
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| Most days I’m tied to the post
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| She said she was born a traveler
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| And I said I knew as she ran out the door
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| I said, «I won’t you let you go, girl»
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| She said, «Boy, you know you’re just clutching at straws»
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| She was a hummingbird’s song
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| She fluttered her wings but she would not come in I threw my weight at the door
|
| But she held her ground and she would not come in Most days I’m better than most
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| Some days I’m tied to the post
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| Yeah, most days I’m better than most
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| Most days I’m tied to the post |