I just finished a book with its cover torn and its pages worn.
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The story starts on the day you were born in the city.
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Where movie houses stood
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Raised on Elvis and Hollywood.
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The bad guys bad and the good guys good
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And the weight of the worlds is always on the sheriff's
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shoulders,
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There was life in the little house
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Above the hospital for the dying,
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So I will keep singing,
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I will keep finishing for some words in the water all around me
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The house of home shook and as the shelter broke you got a
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good long look
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At a country and class run by buzzards and crooks
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Mississippi! Mississippi!
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Through CIA and Klan
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Through McCarth's damn blacklist, Nixon, and Nam
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They tear-gassed the students but you had a plan
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And the weight of the world is on the sheriff's
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shoulders
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There was life in the little house,
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Above the hospital for the dying.
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So I will keep singing,
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I will keep fishing for some words in this water all around me
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There was life in the city that night.
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You found your voice and you voiced your sight.
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You held your ground to help us see
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There's more to life than lovers and chores
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There's more to life that an office at the top floor,
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Somehow, someway, we all find peace,
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We all find
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-----------------
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Sheriff Ochs
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Kind Of Like Spitting |