| Busted doors and broken women hang out in the street
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| Faces unfamiliar turn to stare and not to greet
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| And the old café door’s permanently closed, no more cappuccino brewing
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| There’s a pair of eyes peering through the afterglow
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| Wondering what the hell I’m doin'
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| This place used to be my home
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| This town I used to call my own
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| Over the years nothin' and no one’s grown
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| In this place, I used to call my home
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| The old tree on the hill’s still standin'
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| Where my baby and I used to lay down
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| She taught me about livin', lovin' and life
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| My first and only love from this town
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| And the plain old houses seem like long lost friends
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| But most have been torn down
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| I guess they tried to make way for some kinda progress
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| So hard to find in this town
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| This place used to be my home
|
| This town I used to call my own
|
| Over the years nothin' and nobody’s grown
|
| In this place, I used to call my home
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| Fields of green and lazy skies
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| Golden memories just pass me by
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| When you go back, well, it’s never the same
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| I know it’s true
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| But I’m still hooked on you and this place
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| The old café door’s permanently closed, no more cappuccino brewing
|
| There’s a pair of eyes peering through the afterglow
|
| Wonderin' what the hell I’m doin'
|
| This place used to be my home
|
| This town I used to call my own
|
| Over the years nothin' and no one’s grown
|
| In this place
|
| This place used to be my home
|
| This town I used to call my own
|
| Over the years nothin' and no one’s grown
|
| In this place, I used to call my home |