I'm just average, common too
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I'm just like him, the same as you
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I'm everybody's brother and son
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I ain't different than anyone
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It ain't no use a-talking to me
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It's just the same as talking to you.
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I was shadow-boxing earlier in the day
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I figured I was ready for Cassius Clay
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I said "Fee, fie, fo, fum, Cassius Clay here I come
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26, 27, 28, 29, I'm gonna make your face look just like mine
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Five, four, three, two, one, Cassius Clay you'd better run
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99, 100 101, 102, your ma won't even recognize you
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14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, gonna knock him clean right out of his spleenf.
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Well, I don't know, but I've been told
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The streets in heaven are lined with gold
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I ask you how things could get much worse
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If the Russians happen to get up there first
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Wowee! pretty scary !
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Now, I'm liberal, but to a degree
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I want ev'rybody to be free
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But if you think that I'll let Barry Goldwater
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Move in next door and mary my daughter
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You must think I'm crazy !
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I wouldn't let him do it for all the farms in Cuba.
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Well, I set my monkey on the log
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And ordered him to do the Dog
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He wagged his tail and shook his head
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And he went and did the Cat instead
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He's a weird monkey, very funky.
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I sat with my high-heeled sneakers on
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Waiting to play tennis in the noonday sun
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I had my white shorts rolled up past my waist
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And my wig-hat falling in my face
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But they wouldn't let me on the tennis court.
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I gotta woman, she's so mean
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She sticks my boots in the washing machine
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Sticks me with buckshot when I'm nude
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Puts bubblegum in my food
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She's funny, wants my money, calls me honey.
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Now I gotta friend who spends his life
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Stabbing my picture with a bowie-knife
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Dreams of strangling me with a scarf
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When my name comes up he pretends to barf
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I've got a million friends !
|
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Now they asked me to read a poem
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At the sorority sister's home
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I got knocked down and my head was swimmin'
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I wound up with the Dean of Women
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Yippee ! I'm a poet, and I know it
|
Hope I don't blow it.
|
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I'm gonna grow my hair down to my feet so strange
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So I look like a walking mountain range
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And I'm gonna ride into Omaha on a horse
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Out to the country club and the golf course
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Carry the New York Times, shoot a few holes, blow their minds.
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You're probably wondering by now
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Just what this song is all about
|
What's probably got you baffled more
|
What this thing here is for
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It's nothing
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It's something I learned over in England
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-----------------
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I Shall Be Free No. 10
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Bob Dylan |