| There once was a boy by the name of Davey Rockit
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| And moved out from Tennessee
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| He came out to Hollywood to be a famous DJ
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| His name in the magazines
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| Everyone told him not to do it
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| They said, «Dave just chill
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| And get a job, and go get a gig at the mall»
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| He didn’t say a word, he just shook his head and grinned
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| Stood up and surprised them all
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| He said, «One of these days, I’m gonna be large
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| I’ll practice all night long
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| I’ve packed my bags, I’ve traveled too far
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| To ever go back home»
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| Cause momma was a weeping willow
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| His daddy wish he did the same thing years ago
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| When he was young he played the drums, opened for Artie Shaw
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| Wanted to be a jazz legend and a superstar
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| But his dreams faded when they had little David
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| He secretly resented all his friends that made it
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| And to be honest grew to hate and love his own son
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| And couldn’t understand where the rage was comin from
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| Davey and his momma was on tiptoes
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| Cause they never knew which daddy would open the do'
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| Either the mad, sad, happy or the drunk one
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| Davey like the drunk, it was the only time he spoke to him
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| He sat down and yelled for a Coors Light
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| Davey brought it for him, it was the only thing he did right
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| He said «Son, your daddy used to be sum’n
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| Now I work at some place that don’t mean NOTHIN
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| And you gon' be JUST like your old man»
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| Davey laughed and said «Dad, that’s the main plan!»
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| And daddy laughed at that
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| And told Davey, «Get another from the six-pack»
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| There once was a boy by the name of Davey Rockit
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| A thousand miles outside of home
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| All he had was his car and a hundred in his pocket
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| And he already felt alone |