| S. Colvin — J. Leventhal
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| The streets of my town are not
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| what they were
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| They are haloed in anger, bitter
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| and hurt
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| And it’s not so you’d notice but
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| it’s a sinister thing
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| Like the wheels of ambition at the christening
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| So I went out walking on the
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| streets of the dead
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| With a chip on my shoulder
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| And a voice in my head
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| It said you have been brought here
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| Though you don’t know what for
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| Well the mystery train is coming
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| right to your door
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| And I hear you calling, you
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| don’t have to call so loud
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| I see you falling and you don’t
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| have to walk so proud
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| You can run all night but we can take you where
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| You can cry like an angel
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| There were high school night dances
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| When we played stump the band
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| We were raising each other
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| In a strange land
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| There were hard pills to swallow
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| But we drank 'em all down
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| Oh the nights were too short then
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| And now they’re a little too long
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| I hear you calling and you
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| don’t have to call so loud
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| I see you falling and you don’t
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| have to walk so proud
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| You can run all night but we can take you where
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| You can shout out in anger
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| You can laugh like a fool
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| You can cry like an angel
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| So look homeward baby
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| Keep your eyes on the sky
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| They will never forgive you
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| So don’t ask them to try
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| This is your party, I know
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| it’s not your ideal
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| May we all find salvation
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| In professions that heal
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| I hear you calling, you
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| don’t have to call so loud
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| I see you falling and you don’t
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| have to walk so proud |