| I guess it’s way too late for half-assed sympathy
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| Or to ask if there is anything you need from me
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| That neglected Mississippi bridge is crumbling
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| And I’m stuck in Missouri squinting to see Illinois
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| So I’m on the banks just trying
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| To get my message through
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| But my waves and jumps
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| Will clearly be no help to you
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| And any sacrifice is worthless, that’s another truth
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| A mile-long current separates the man from the boy
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| So leave, put away your telescope
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| Or at least point it upwards to the sky
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| The close-ups of my face have to be getting old
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| And the sun will turn to stars in a little while
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| The gasoline may be cheaper
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| And the fireworks stands linger
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| It’s getting dark and I know that you can’t swim
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| But there’s nothing here worth crossing for
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| Even if you could
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| So leave, put away your telescope
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| Or at least point it upwards to the sky
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| The close-ups of my face have to be getting old
|
| And the sun will turn to stars in a little while
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| So leave, pack up your riverboat
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| Be thankful that you have something that’s still afloat
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| Maybe take the muddy back towards Murphysboro
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| The sun will turn to stars in a little while |