| Couple of young girls went
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| Sailing down A1A
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| Into the arms of Florida
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| Sailing down a highway
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| Singing their heads off
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| Protected by the Holy Ghost
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| Flying in from the ocean
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| Driving with their eyes closed
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| The night wants to kiss you
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| Deep and be on his way
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| Pretend he don’t know you
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| The very next day
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| Isn’t it hard sometimes?
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| Isn’t it lonely?
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| How I still hang around here
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| And there’s nothing to hold me
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| You slide down into the seat
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| From twelve hours on your feet
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| Get the tide to wash you away
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| For thousands and thousands of days
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| And someone you never meet
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| Signs a check you get every week
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| You try and still can’t forget
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| All the strangers that you have met
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| The night never owed you
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| Nothing anyway
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| Makes promises that he never
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| Intends to keep every day
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| Isn’t it hard sometimes?
|
| Isn’t it lonely?
|
| How I still hang around here
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| And there’s nothing to hold me
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| Every time, every year
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| The travellers come and go
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| You see them landing with their pale wings
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| And flying back to the snow
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| And the summer comes marching in
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| With his heavy boots on
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| Kicking along the blacktop
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| Sidewalks of A1A
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| The young girls in their bare feet
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| Cigarettes smoking
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| Looking every which way
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| Wishing and a hoping
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| And you want the night just to let you sleep
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| And be on his way
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| Wrap you up in some cool sheets
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| And have nothing to say
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| Isn’t it hard sometimes?
|
| Isn’t it lonely?
|
| How I still hang around here
|
| And there’s nothing to hold me
|
| Isn’t it hard sometimes?
|
| Isn’t it lonely?
|
| How I still hang around here
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| And there’s nothing to hold me |