| Citywide rodeo, you set on the stage
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| Where all the clowns will go when they feel their age
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| I know that you think you’re not good for anything
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| The world makes you feel so small
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| Get on your wooden horse
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| This is a ride, not a fight
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| No need to save face, say goodnight, Grace
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| «Good night, Grace.»
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| There’s dust on the stadium seats, there’s dust in your hair
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| You wonder how fast you’ll go when you hit the air
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| I know that you think you’re not good for anything
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| The world makes you feel so small
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| Get on your wooden horse
|
| This is a ride, not a fight
|
| No need to save face, say goodnight, Grace
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| «Good night, Grace.»
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| And oh, isn’t it strange how things can change you?
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| And oh, isn’t it plain that some things unname you
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| So don’t ask anybody else
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| Citywide rodeo, step into your car
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| Look up at the indigo and pick out your star
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| I know that you think you’re not good for anything
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| The world makes you feel so small
|
| Get on your wooden horse
|
| This is a ride, not a fight
|
| No need to save face, say goodnight, Grace
|
| «Good night, Grace.» |