| When I used to head out West
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| I’d dress up to look my best
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| And then somewhere in the air
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| I would feel a little better
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| And when I’d reach the ground
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| I’d turned into someone else
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| And I walked out in the sun
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| Someone new
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| Oh, America, my friend
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| There’s a sickness in your head
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| And it’s eating you alive
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| And you just ain’t getting better
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| I’d like to love you more
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| But I don’t know you any more
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| Now you look lik something wrong
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| Something new
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| And th writing on the wall
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| Is saying: «Where is America?»
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| And the bodies on the floor
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| Are singing: «Where is America?»
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| And the pilot looks straight down
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| And says: «I don’t know where to land
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| I’ve flown this way a thousand times before
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| But I just don’t recognize things anymore.»
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| All around the world
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| If you dig into the sand
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| You can find the shattered statues
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| Of men who came before you
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| Who used to have it all
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| And believed they could not fall
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| Then gave away to something else
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| Something new
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| Oh, America, my friend
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| I’d like to think we’ll meet again
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| On some sunlit afternoon
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| When your sickness is behind you
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| We hope you see it’s true
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| That it isn’t us, it’s you
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| It was time you had to know
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| 'Cause we see where this will go
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| Where this goes
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| Where this goes
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| The wolves will one day sing on Broadway:
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| «Who was America?»
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| The herds will thunder down your freeways:
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| «Who was America?»
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| And the faces on the mountain
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| Will be shadows from before
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| Forgotten men from some time long ago
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| Who couldn’t see which way the sands would blow
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| A wolf will one day sing on Broadway:
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| «I am America»
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| The herds will thunder down the freeways:
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| «Across America»
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| And the faces on the mountain
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| Will be cities for the birds
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| Forgotten men from some time long ago
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| Who couldn’t see which way the sands would blow
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| Forgotten men from some time long ago
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| Who couldn’t see which way the sands would blow
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| (A wolf will one day sing on Broadway…)
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| (A wolf will one day sing on Broadway…)
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| (A wolf will one day sing on Broadway…) |