| Don’t know much about you
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| Don’t know who you are
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| We’ve been doing fine without you
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| But, we could only go so far
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| Don’t know why you chose us
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| Were you watching from above
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| Is there someone there that knows us
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| Said we’d give you all our love
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| Will you laugh just like your mother
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| Will you sigh like your old man
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| Will some things skip a generation
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| Like I’ve heard they often can
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| Are you a poet or a dancer
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| A devil or a clown
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| Or a strange new combination of
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| The things we’ve handed down
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| I wonder who you’ll look like
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| Will your hair fall down and curl
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| Will you be a mama’s boy
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| Or daddy’s little girl
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| Will you be a sad reminder
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| Of what’s been lost along the way
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| Maybe you can help me find her
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| In the things you do and say
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| And these things that we have given you
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| They are not so easily found
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| But you can thank us later
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| For the things we’ve handed down
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| You may not always be so grateful
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| For the way that you were made
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| Some feature of your father’s
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| That you’d gladly sell or trade
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| And one day you may look at us
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| And say that you were cursed
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| But over time that line has been
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| Extremely well rehearsed
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| By our fathers, and their fathers
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| In some old and distant town
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| From places no one here remembers
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| Come the things we’ve handed down |