| Tonight I’m riding all night
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| Talking to myself and my sleeping bride
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| And I’m looking at my life
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| Lord, I hope I’m doing everything right
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| 'Cause I’m just a kid in a man’s shoes
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| Well everybody says that, but with me it’s true
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| As I ride down the avenue
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| Yesterday was Christmas day
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| I was a little hungover at my sister-in-law's place
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| Thinking through a hard year
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| The people that are gone and the people still here
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| Now I work for both, I do
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| But I’m wearing out my last pair of good shoes
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| A voice lost but now clear, like the ringing in my ears
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| So now I’m riding down the avenue
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| See the little boys with little toy guns that shoot
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| In cowboy hats and cuban boots
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| Their mother’s father’s sailor suits
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| And I swear I’ve never changed
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| Since I was 17 I’ve stayed the same
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| 'cept now I drive in the right line
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| The girls in the back carry my name
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| Two blue-eyed girls with my name
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| I’m alone, I’m not alone
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| And I’m scared, but I’m not scared
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| And I’m no singer, that much I know
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| But I’m singing these last lines even so
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| 'Cause I’ve heard the holy sound
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| Of a teenage band in a basement in the ground
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| And I heard the marchers' drum
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| And now I know this thing is just begun
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| And I know I’m old, it’s true
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| But I know I’m young, too
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| As I ride down the avenue
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| As I ride down the avenue
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| As I ride down the avenue |