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If I had a cinder block |
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For every lie I told, |
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I could have built us a house, fine as any city block, |
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To keep us out of the cold |
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Cause the winter s long, |
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And longer in this shitty town, |
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With a gas can rusting down the street |
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And the cherry trees, |
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And every boom-box playing loud |
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We'd sing along, |
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We'd sing till dawn, |
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Just one more American Song |
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John was a quiet boy in school, |
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Johnny had the fiery red hair, |
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Well he went in the army like a lot of them do, |
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And he gut fucked up over there |
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And if you see him now he pushes a shopping cart in the parking lot |
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And if you call him he don't hear a thing |
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Call him john the priest, |
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John the king of bottle tops |
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Priest or pawn, |
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His war is still on, |
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It's just one more American song |
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There's a place I heard about once, |
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A place called Union Street |
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A place on high, |
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A place where we could all be one, |
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And it sounded pretty good to me |
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But ain't no gasoline gonna take us back that way again |
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When the years have rusted out our fenders |
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When our jeans were torn |
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And we were all the best of friends |
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And the music sewed us together |
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I can hear that band, |
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They're near at hand, |
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And I really hope it's the wind again |
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Don't be long boys, |
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Cause something's gone, |
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One more American song |
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Don't be long boys, I'm hanging on |
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For just one more American song |
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It's been too long boys, something's gone, |
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One more American song |