| Mama, tell your children
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| Not to step on any cracks
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| And mama, tell your children
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| About runnin' with the pack
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| Tell your sons and daughters
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| 'Bout the strangers they will meet
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| With too much money, too many offers
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| From the other site of the street
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| And your words sound just like poetry
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| They sound like poetry should
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| They sound like words of wisdom
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| But they never do much good
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| And the kid’s are havin' fun tonight
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| Out in Hollywood
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| Tell me why, now
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| Tell me if you could
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| Why only the young die good
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| Mama speaks to no one
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| She says what have I done so wrong
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| It’s three o’clock in the morning
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| And my baby’s still not home
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| She waits alone in the darkness
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| Waits for the phone to ring
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| Hear a vioce that’s heard it all before
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| Yeah, it’s heard about everything
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| And the voice sounds just like poetry
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| Sounds like poetry should
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| Sounds like words of wisdom
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| But they never do much good
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| And the big kid’s havin' fun tonight
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| Out in Hollywood
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| Tell me why, now
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| Tell me if you could
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| Why only the young die good
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| And she plays the whole scene
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| Over in her head one last time
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| Would it come out any different
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| If I’d been strong
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| Ain’t it funny how one moment
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| Everything is fine
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| And the next moment
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| Everything is wrong
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| And only the young die good
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| Only the young die good… |