| Pulling my guitar out of its green velvet case
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| A hundred setlists are staring at my face
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| And a note from a fan there is stiff and yellow
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| A notice of inspection from Air Canada
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| Sitting at the Days Inn hotel, Chicago
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| Room 222 with the ceiling fan low
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| And I just got in the door from Ontario
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| And I’m going on tomorrow
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| I took a walk down to Lincoln Avenue
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| Got myself a foot massage and a manicure too
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| And I looked up at the marquee
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| And hey it was my name!
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| Next to Julie Holland, think that was her name
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| Sunshine in Chicago makes me think about my Dad
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| It was 8 or 9 siblings I am told that he had
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| When summertime came, his parents put him on a bus
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| And sent him to his Uncle’s in Chicago for three months
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| Sunshine in Chicago makes me feel pretty sad
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| My band played here a lot in the '90s when we had
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| Lots of female fans and fuck, they all were cute
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| Now I just sign posters for guys in tennis shoes
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| Tomorrow I’ll get up at a quarter after nine
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| No itching or burning like I got the other time
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| My back, it fucking hurts, but otherwise I’m fine
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| Sunshine in Chicago, sunshine in Chicago |