| Life’s the only mother I know
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| Gypsy death and fortune are its motto
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| Chance and maturation are the father of gestation
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| The whole point of life’s I think to grow
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| The whole point of life’s I think to grow
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| Life’s the only father I know
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| Wars, recessions, depressions I know
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| Savage tastes of Hitler and good wines are tasting bitter
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| But the only point life’s I think to grow
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| And basically you’re the only one I know
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| Scaled down buildings burning
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| Memories that make you sit up sick
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| Focused tunnel vision only seems to make you swat, heck
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| And baby you’re the only on I know
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| Little kids are playin' stickball in the street
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| Memories that make you sit up sick
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| Sitting, thinking, trying to make things neat and complete
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| It doesn’t work, I know
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| Jed’s in Santa Barbara I know
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| Sally’s in Chicago with the band
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| Richard’s in L.A. and I’m feeling well
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| And I guess I don’t know anything at all
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| And baby you’re the only one I know… |