| You wanna write songs, wanna be a singer
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| Get on stage, show 'em what you can do
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| You got some way to go, yeah, yes, and you know it
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| So you’re gonna spend lots of time in your room
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| Where you’re gonna play your guitar
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| Smoke the tars of India
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| Someday gonna be a star
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| Soon as what’s in you comes out
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| Listenin' to records, way people play
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| Fender pickin', blues lickin' all of the day
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| When the night comes you gotta try the loom
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| Shades drawn and door closed up in your room
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| Where you’re gonna play your guitar
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| Smoke the tars of India
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| Someday gonna be a star
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| Soon as what’s in you comes out
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| Well it’s finally hit you, got it on paper
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| You got it fixed up in your mind
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| When somebody asks you, «Say hey what’s shakin'?»
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| You won’t have to fake it thanks to the time
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| You spent playing your guitar
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| Smokin' the tars of India
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| Someday gonna be a star
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| Soon as what’s in you
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| Soon as what’s in you
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| Soon as, as soon as, soon as what’s in you comes out
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| Oh yeah, well |