| It’s a hard wind blows through the buildings and empty lots
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| As the corner of michigan and 31st waits in ruin
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| And the echoes of happy shoppers faded long, long, long ago
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| Back when chrysler, gm and ford went mad with greed
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| Oh, how we hoped it would turn out right
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| Going back to detroit
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| Kid could ride his bike through any neighborhood in town
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| No fear of getting jacked for his sneakers
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| Drive-bys only happened to the purple gang
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| Back before the rebellion of '67
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| Still we dreamed it could turn out right
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| Movin back to detroit
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| Drove down from st. |
| claire, took all night
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| Going back to detroit
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| From east grand boulevard to michigan and 31st
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| Over to livernois and warren
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| And then the upper duplex of elmer and mcgraw street
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| And then the big move to our own whole house in lincoln park
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| Which shattered into a rental in taylor
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| And the endless search for the great good place
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| Was redeemed by the power of loud electric guitars
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| Up the river it’s all forests and secret trails
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| And forts and swamps and dogs and boats
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| And the day held a million adventures for a boy of seven
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| But that was before the time of later ghosts
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| Lost paradise left behind
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| Huck finn hits the steets and the neon light
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| Hope against hope it’ll turn out right
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| Going back to detroit.
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| Drove down from algonac, took all night
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| Going back to detroit |