| Colorado was so nice, but I’m Minnesota’s son
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| Even when the cold winds blow in the darkness and the light
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| And the young folks search for meaning here and the old folks know there’s none
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| Out your window you can see the world, babe, it’s turning, and it’s gone
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| And the stars at night, Why do they make you cry?
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| Don’t you think that I’ll be coming home?
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| Well it’s not like Sunny, Monterrey in all the Steinbeck books you read
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| Where the hobos know the secrets and the law just turns their head
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| We are as close to paradise e’en though you might not hear it said
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| And the Methodists all bring a dish to share with the ashes on their head
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| And when the sun’s in the sky we’ll have a class outside
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| Why do you think that I can be so cold?
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| I’m not scared of much here anymore; |
| wait, friends, that was a lie
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| 'Cause I’m scared to death of losing you, to be alone, high and dry
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| And I know you worry about time and money
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| But don’t you know those things, they come and go? |