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I'm waiting in the pines |
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I'm waiting in the forest |
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Pilon at my side |
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The treasure lies before us |
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And so we started walking |
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We knew they couldn't harm us |
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And how the wind is crying |
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When misty morning dawn breaks |
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We'll walk back to the flats |
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With gallons in our hands |
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We're walking in the fields |
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We're working on the farms |
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We do just like our fathers |
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How can they take that from us? |
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And so we started driving |
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We had no choice to leave this |
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The bowl was left behind us |
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For Hooverville's before us |
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Three hundred thousand |
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Bodies who can't rest |
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Sweet Thursday is calling me back up to Monterey |
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Up to Monterey |
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So I started driving |
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And left my home behind me |
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The row there kept reminding |
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Of pages in your writing |
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Sweet Thursday is calling me back up to Monterey |
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Up to Monterey |