| All they ever smoke is tobacco in Suburbia
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| All they ever smoke is tobacco in Suburbia
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| Everybody brags about
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| The way they done somebody out
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| Of money they have cleverly invested
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| Everyone is making friends
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| With other people just like them
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| And anyone who’s different is detested
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| I come home and I lay me down (Suburbia)
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| I get a call to come downtown (Suburbia)
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| And go my brother’s bail, he’s been arrested (Suburbia, Suburbia)
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| For smilin' (Ahh)
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| And they ever smoke is tobacco in Suburbia
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| Nobody ever dresses sloppy in Suburbia, ha!
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| Nobody ever dresses sloppy in Suburbia
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| Mr. Brown wears herringbone
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| When stepping out with Mrs. Jones
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| To keep the local gossip hounds from staring
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| And Mr. Wilson combs his hair
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| To carry on his big affair
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| With Mrs. Smith, who by the way, never dresses daring
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| No one stabs his neighbor’s back (Suburbia)
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| Or welches on his income tax (Suburbia)
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| Without sincere concern that he is wearing (Suburbia, Suburbia)
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| Proper styling (Ahh)
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| And nobody ever dresses sloppy in Suburbia
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| Nobody is ever un-American in Suburbia, ha!
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| Nobody is ever un-American in Suburbia
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| Everybody has a list
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| Of Negroes, Jews and communists
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| And checks it off before their daughter marries
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| Ginsberg is a socialist
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| He can’t write poems like Edgar Guest
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| And Henry Miller’s not in their library (too bad)
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| You disagree, they gonna knock you flat (Suburbia)
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| 'Cause Reader’s Digest tells them that (Suburbia)
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| Their life is a bowl of maraschino cherries (Suburbia, Suburbia)
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| Though bills are piling (Ahh)
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| Nobody is ever un-American in Suburbia
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| And nobody every dresses sloppy in Suburbia
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| And all they ever smoke is tobacco in Suburbia
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| Suh uh uh uh uh uh
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| Uh uh uh uh uh
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| Bur-bee-ah |