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When I was maybe three or four |
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The Fuller Brush man would knock at the door |
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He'd always tell me, "Boy, you're gonna miss the fun! |
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Time you're old enough the honky-tonks'll all be gone." |
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Momma had no sense with cars |
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She drove a Sunbeam and she drove it hard |
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Left her stranded time and again |
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Didn't matter, you could do that then |
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And they danced on the rooftops |
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Let their hearts run wild |
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Such a sight to the eyes of a child |
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We were used to all the best |
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The man from U.N.C.L.E. and the Wild, Wild West |
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We ruled the skies from a backyard swing |
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Nothing that flies could've stopped that thing |
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While they danced on the rooftops |
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Let their hearts run wild |
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Such a sight to the eyes of a child |
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Blood-stained blacktops twist up between the wheels |
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Before we knew it it was all too real |
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The voice of reason confined to the past |
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And all that mattered was to get there fast |
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So we could dance on the rooftops |
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Let our hearts run wild (hearts run wild) |
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Should it all come down to your last thin dime |
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You can dial that number one more time |
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But the phone won't ring 'cause the line's gone dead |
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It's lost in history |
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Like I said, it's gone |
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So now we give it all we got |
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Pick em up at daycare in a state of shock |
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Frayed at the edges and torn at the seams |
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It rarely happens in our wildest dreams |
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That we dance on the rooftops, let our hearts run wild |
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And it ain't for the sake of the child |
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You don't too often see a sunbeam anymore |
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You never see a Fuller Brush man or a dinosaur |
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The voice of reason rules with an iron fist |
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Please forgive me if I'm not prepared to handle this |