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By Berg Matraca, At nine o'clock each morning down on Charlotte Avenue
The bus
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By Berg Matraca, If love is like a roller coaster
Pretty as a circus
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By Berg Matraca, He came into town in the early springtime
To work with
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By Berg Matraca, Oh no, here we go, and there you go again,
When
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By Berg Matraca, I came down from the Cadillac dude ranch, health spaNestled
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By Berg Matraca, I guess you had to be there, she said, you
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By Berg Matraca, Here we are
Clinging to what left of a broken
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By Berg Matraca, Sweet Abilena looked out at the midwestern sky
Sweet seventeen with
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By Berg Matraca, If the sunAin't shining brightAnd the moon, the moonWon't shine
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By Berg Matraca, Well, all the girls you see walkin' in hereActing like
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By Berg Matraca, Spent my life looking for
Happiness like it was buried treasure
Somewhere
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By Berg Matraca, I go to work from 10:30 until 6 a.m.
Raking up
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By Berg Matraca, The world is waiting in the drive, another day begins
We
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By Berg Matraca, She fixes her hair every morning
Long before seven o'clock
She'll tell
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By Berg Matraca, The world explodes in violenceWhile the angels cry in vain'Cause
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By Berg Matraca, Blackbird shivers on the old clothes line
When I oughta be
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By Berg Matraca, I can't eat, I can't sleep,
I got nubs where my
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By Berg Matraca, Well, I like to walk my dog in the middle
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By Berg Matraca, I hear an echo through the aching distance
I know your
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By Berg Matraca, They say I latched onto you
Like you was the last
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By Berg Matraca, Walking on a cloud
Lighter than air
Don't know where I'm going
My
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By Berg Matraca, (Dolly Parton)
Jolene,Jolene,Jolene,Jolene
I'm begging of you please don't take my man
Jolene,Jolene,Jolene,Jolene
Please
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By Berg Matraca, It's over, baby, let's face it, baby
I'm seldom on your
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By Berg Matraca, I watch the sun going down
While I stand on sacred
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By Berg Matraca, All aboardThe ship is waitingAll aboard, you know I've finally
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By Berg Matraca, Why do I lie here like this
Paralyzed by the truth
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By Berg Matraca, It was a long, hard road
It was all up hill
We
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By Berg Matraca, Sunday morning, a quarter past ten
The congregation says amen
The friends
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By Berg Matraca, You can't run from your blues
You can't waltz across Texas
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By Berg Matraca, He ran hard, he ran fastA fallen angel on a