| Back in 1967, I was watching a TV show
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| When the glowing screen went blank
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| I looked out of my window
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| I saw 27 crows perched on my antenna
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| In the glass a familiar face appeared
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| A man whose name I don’t remember
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| 'Cause that mother’s milk is dandy
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| When you’re a little baby
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| But as the wheels of time grind you down
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| You get a taste for that stranger candy
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| Then in December of '81
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| I saw my dear old friend John
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| He was fall-down drunk at the Christmas parade
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| With his children looking on
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| His wife, she’d lost her mind
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| She was committed for a time
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| She took refuge when they set her free
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| In some weird eastern philosophy
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| 'Cause that mother’s milk is dandy
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| When you’re a little baby
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| But as the wheels of time grind you down
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| You get a taste for that stranger candy
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| And this life, they say is hard
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| But still it’s all you know
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| You can close your eyes and try to run away
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| But pray, where will you go?
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| Yeah, this life is all you know
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| Death is dark and strange
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| It’s the near and worrisome voice you hear
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| Forever calling out your name
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| As I was walking down the street
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| Last week in Portland, Oregon
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| I found the last of many keys I lost
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| I picked it up and I grinned
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| 'Cause sometimes them crows take flight
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| And if you can shoo 'em from your brain
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| You will find yourself in the nick of time
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| Calling the devil by his name
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| 'Cause that mother’s milk is dandy
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| When you’re a little baby
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| But as the wheels of time grind you down
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| You get a taste… just a little taste
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| For that stranger candy
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| Stranger candy |