| You’d’ve thought a king had died,
|
| The way those people cried,
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| Instead of one more broken entertainer.
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| It struck those in his trade,
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| He could-a had it made,
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| If he’d only been a little saner.
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| They traveled far to see him.
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| Oh, the humble and the high.
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| They said goodbye as if he were a friend.
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| Now somewhere he is smilin',
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| On those who idolize him.
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| But would they not recognize him,
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| If he came back again?
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| He was born of modest means,
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| And had outrageous dreams.
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| They never let him rest till he fullfilled them.
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| While he rode that train of song,
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| His devils tagged along.
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| The whiskey and the pills just couldn’t kill him.
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| He didn’t mean to be a rebel.
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| No the real ones never do.
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| They are born apart from ordinary men.
|
| And somewhere he is smilin',
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| On those who sanctify him.
|
| But would they not recognize him,
|
| If he came back again?
|
| But it’s an old, familiar story.
|
| But it’s a damn shame nonetheless.
|
| They don’t forgive his kind,
|
| Until they lay them down to rest.
|
| And somewhere he is smilin',
|
| On those who idolize him.
|
| But would they not recognize him,
|
| If he came back again?
|
| If he came back again?
|
| Cash attempts to sing the last line again and that seems to be wrong and very
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| funny to everyone. |