| I’ve been traveling all these years
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| Just barely getting by
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| The road can be your friend
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| Or the devil in disguise
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| When the tough get going
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| The muses visit me
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| Yet in soft, low tones
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| They always say to me
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| Say to me
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| «It ain’t no groove thing
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| It ain’t no country twang
|
| It’s a simple refrain;
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| It’s a soul thang.» |
| (2x)
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| Where the city street meets the county road
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| Where the sun is nice and warm
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| No matter how long I may roam
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| This song still takes us home
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| Takes us home
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| Now we’ll tell you about these times
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| When the blues come out to play
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| And jazz leaves her number…
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| It’s funny, she always says:
|
| «It ain’t no groove thing
|
| It ain’t no country twang
|
| It’s a simple refrain;
|
| It’s a soul thang.» |
| (2x)
|
| Now I’ll tell you about these times
|
| When the blues come out to play
|
| And jazz leaves her number…
|
| It’s funny, she always says:
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| «Well, the city lights fly by me
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| As their eyes are getting heavy
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| We’re sending our love over telephone wire
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| These days getting lonelier by the mile… by the mile.»
|
| It ain’t no groove thing
|
| It ain’t no country twang |
| It’s a simple refrain;
|
| It’s a soul thang. |
| (2x)
|
| It ain’t no groove thing
|
| Yeah, ain’t no country twang
|
| It’s a simple refrain;
|
| It’s a soul thang. |
| (2x) |