| Cody says he didn’t start the fire
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| His parents know he probably did
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| He’s always playing with a light
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| He’s just a different kind of kid
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| And Cody says He didn’t raise the dead
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| Says «religion's just a trick
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| To keep hard-working folks in line.»
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| He says it makes his stomach sick
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| So who’s gonna carry us away?
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| Eagles with glory-painted wings?
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| We keep on waiting for the miracle to come
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| Pour down the mountain like a heaven-fed stream
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| Cody’s always got one on the line;
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| He likes to walk 'em by the wrist
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| He does his pulling with his eyes
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| He does his talking with his fists
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| Bottle rockets on an August night
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| Raid the coolers in the trucks
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| If we’re lucky we’ll get loud and we’ll drink
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| Whiskey from a plastic jug
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| So who’s gonna carry us away?
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| Eagles with glory-painted wings?
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| We keep on waiting for the miracle to come
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| Fall from the firmament and give us nice things
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| Round and round it goes
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| Where it stops, nobody knows, nobody knows
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| So who’s gonna carry us away?
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| Eagles with glory-painted wings?
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| We keep on waiting for the miracle to come
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| Roll down the mountain to the sound of sad strings
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| We keep on waiting for the miracle
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| For the miracle
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| We keep on waiting for the miracle
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| For the miracle |