| This is skin, you can wrap all of your arms and legs in
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| An address that you know, an envelope unfolds
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| I’m writing to catch up, we were small when we last met
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| But the letters are unread, she’s heard it on cassette
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| Taught to read and write at such an early age
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| The passenger is still, because she’s got books on tape
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| I’m running to catch up to that old VW
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| You’re leaning out the back
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| You’ve never heard of fiction
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| You’ve never heard of fact
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| Way back when, we met because my parents knew your parents
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| Steady hands, easy breath
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| Old east side, parading all the rooftops of this town
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| Little kids, intrepids
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| I’m running out of space so let me sum this up for you
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| I’m only wishing well
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| And though you won’t believe me
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| This coming Thursday evening
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| Is our Centennial |