| I rehearsed today down in the bay
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| With a bunch of singers
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| And a string section, too
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| Came home in the afternoon, sunk into my chair
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| Took in the sun, thinking about what a friend said
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| About bullshit versus more important issues
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| The doors all started buzzing
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| Caroline went downstairs, and a crackhead fled
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| Two FedEx packages were ripped to shreds
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| She filed a report and I called the building manager
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| And let her know, and the next morning
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| A neighbor came over
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| And we talked it over
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| We went to bed
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| Turned on CNN
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| In South Carolina
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| Nine were shot dead
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| The killer looks like a little boy
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| And not a man, so tonight
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| I can’t address nothing else that’s happening
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| Friday was the show
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| With Chuck and Steph
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| Last night was a fight with Andre Ward
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| And an overweight Paul Smith
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| A piece of Smith’s face went flying
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| In the ninth round
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| The ref stepped in, and the noise from the crowd
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| Was so intense, cause Steph Curry was in the house
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| And today is
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| Father’s Day
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| Called my dad
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| And he sounded okay
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| Told him I was recording
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| But that on Wednesday
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| Gonna go pull fish from the ocean, have a cookout
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| With Caroline in a brand new kitchen
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| Oh, today is
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| Father’s Day
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| Just talked with my dad
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| And he’s doing okay
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| And his girlfriend went to lunch
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| That’s all he needs, he’s eighty-one
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| He’s a simple man and full of love
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| And I miss him a bunch
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| Oh, today is
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| Father’s Day
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| Called my dad, and I’m so happy
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| That I can say
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| That after years of struggle
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| He’s one of my best friends
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| No matter what his faults
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| I will always love that man
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| And it’s Tuesday
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| And I’m dueting with Rachel
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| She’s penned down, and so is Neil, and so is Justin
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| Maybe they’re on to something
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| What is next?
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| And when will I face death?
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| Do I want kids? |
| We both think «no»
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| But I hear them laughing on the playground at school
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| And I think about life
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| With all its pain and hurdles
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| I still love lily pads at the top of the pond
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| And the painted turtles
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| And I love Cat Stevens
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| And Neil Young’s songs
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| And I love Owen Ashworth’s music
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| When we’re driving along
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| And I think about life
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| With all its spewing venom
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| And I still love playing, that’s getting up
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| On stage and entertaining
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| I look to the sky
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| And all of its beautiful shades of blue
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| And I’m so happy to pass through these places
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| That have led me to you
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| Will I ever hear people say
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| Happy Father’s Day
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| Will I ever hear people say
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| Happy Father’s Day
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| Got the money, got the space
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| Got the right girl, everything’s in place
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| Will there ever be our kid out there
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| On the playground, laughing and playing
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| For half of my life
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| That playground
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| Has been my
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| Very favorite sound
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| They wake me in the morning
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| Then in the afternoon
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| I write music to the sound of them
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| During their after school programs in my living room
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| This morning, my world
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| Was so strange and quiet
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| Walked on the marina for exercise
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| I’ve been trying to maintain some kind of diet
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| My sister said my father’s
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| Skin is getting dry, that his hands are black and blue
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| Like my grandfather’s was
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| When I was five
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| I’m going to meet Caroline
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| Down the road for Chinese
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| We’ll go to the new hospital over there
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| And the cat still sleeps at the fish market across the street
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| And here we are, back in my room
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| Watching a movie on TV
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| And I’m looking for the picture of my sister’s kids in a garden
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| And it’s gotten me thinking |