| I was walking down the street the other day
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| And a sight came before my eyes
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| It was a little hippie boy, I must have been twice his size
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| His appearence typified his strange breed
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| Gaudy clothes, long stringy hair hanging down
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| I’d seen perhaps a thousand in my early trips to town
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| As he walked beside me on down the block
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| I noticed no unpleasing smell
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| He might have been on the weed or even LSD
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| But if he was I couldn’t tell
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| So we walked together that way through this neighborhood
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| Finally he turned around to me
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| And he said friend, you know we’re a million miles apart
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| But you know something we can enjoy the sunshine and the weather
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| So why don’t we put our differences aside
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| And just talk to each other
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| You see this box beneath my arm
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| To you it’s plain, it has no charm
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| But to someone dearest to my heart this box has played a tragic part
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| This little one can’t tell you himself about his life and how he died
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| But if anyone else could speak for him I guess I’m qualified
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| This boy was in Chicago, he didn’t know why he was there
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| He was with his family and friends and he didn’t really care
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| You might have been one of those
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| Who saw the struggle there on your television screen
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| The tragic thing is so much else happened
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| That no one else could have seen
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| A stranger handed this boy a dollar to do a simple chore
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| To carry a package to a nearby hotel
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| And when he returned he’d get two more
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| But when he came back he sort of lost his way walking thru the crowd
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| One of them things you ask yourself, how the Lord allowed
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| But when he was found he was like he is now
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| Dreaming sweet and still
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| And in his little hand was a crumpled dollar bill
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| Now you can take that dollar
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| Get four cents on it compound it quarterly at any downtown bank
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| So they can back some hot new tank or atom bomb
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| Well, what I’m going to tell you now, you can stay or you can leave
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| You kind of listened to my story so far but just one more thing
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| It’s the same for any hippie, bum or hillbilly out on the street
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| Just remember this little boy and never carry more than you can eat
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| Now could you help us sing this song, please
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| There will be peace in the valley for him now we pray
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| I will think of the little hippie boy that way |