| I used to roll my cigarettes on the hood of my Tacoma
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| Sit and watch the world go by
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| I was seventeen and green and knowin' nothin' 'bout livin'
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| In a town where people go to die
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| Leroy was a transplant from somewhere in Alabama
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| The first time I met him, he asked me for a spoon
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| And I thought he must’ve been in a bluegrass band, or somethin'
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| But I’d find out one August afternoon
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| Three doors down, there’s tinfoil on the table
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| They ain’t cookin' up nothin' good 'round here
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| There’s one in every house: high on the couch, stealin' cable
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| On the dark side of the country it ain’t bonfires, it ain’t beer
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| But you find out quick how big a hit
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| the neighbor’s bike’ll get ya, boy
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| Livin' next to Leroy
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| In the classroom, Susie Highschool was passin' pills like notes
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| Takin' shots in the parkin' lot at lunch
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| And I’d join in every now and then
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| 'cause you can’t beat the cool crowd
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| I’d go to Leroy’s 'til I sobered up
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| Three doors down, there’s tinfoil on the table
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| They ain’t cookin' up nothin' good 'round here
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| There’s one in every house:
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| High on the couch, stealin' cable
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| On the dark side of the country it ain’t bonfires, it ain’t beer
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| But you find out quick how big a hit that class ring’ll get ya, boy
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| Livin' next to Leroy
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| I rolled a J on the day I got my diploma
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| I knew Leroy would be proud
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| I can’t forget shakin' him, tryin' to wake him on that sofa
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| He never did come 'round
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| Yeah, three doors down, there’s tinfoil on the table
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| They ain’t cookin' up nothin' good 'round here
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| There’s one in every house: high on the couch, stealin' cable
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| On the dark side of the country it ain’t bonfires, it ain’t beer
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| But you find out quick how high you
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| get when that last hit gets you boy
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| Livin' next to Leroy
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| Livin' next to Leroy
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| Next to Leroy |