| Come back home to the hearth you wallowed
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| All that time, out your own damn body
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| Soul worn down to the pavement, bloody
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| The corner store still takes our rubbish
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| To the bay state, where we’ll lay down in the ground
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| To the lady, with a pin stuck in her frown
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| To the warehouse, allowed for me to dream
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| To the vibrant college scene
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| To the addicts coming clean
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| To the place apart of me
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| Oh, New England
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| Our, New England
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| To live and die in New England
|
| Oh, New England
|
| An autumn paradise
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| Come back home to the ones who raised you
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| All that time in the cold, dark basement
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| All grown up in the face, black and blue
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| The old red line still takes where you want to
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| To the bay state, where we’ll lay down in the ground
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| To the lady, who grew up by herself
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| To the shipyard, dad had used his hands
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| To the Sunday football stands
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| To the sea wall where I planned
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| To the place I’ve grown, a man
|
| Oh, New England
|
| My New England
|
| To live and die in New England
|
| Oh, New England
|
| An autumn paradise |