Back in the summer of ¡®91
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An angel with a lizard¡¯s tongue
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Was scheming for a holy broken nose
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Linked to every class of men
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Sprung out from the sparkling sins
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Leaning on the cold electric stove
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On a country road I swerved to the side
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Trying to avoid a country bumpkin
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Everyone¡¯s in line to meet with the man
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Who blatantly inspired his generation
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When they shake his hand and their fingers explode
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Breaking both our necks by the tips of our toes
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Then they turn to me ¡®cause you died, I suppose
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But I can¡¯t seem to glance fast enough to be sure
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Back to summer days, cold hands on the beach
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Memories of thrills designed to please you
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Down the fragrant path, I strayed towards the bath
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Suddenly, I lived to learn to feed you
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Down on bended knee, where I¡¯ve been for a while
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Set the record straight in the old fashioned style
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Never took too much, though I should have made more
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You are still my friend though you were not before
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Country Road
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Adam Green |