| He should have been out playin'
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| But he sat on his front step
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| All day he’s been there waiting
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| And nobody’s showed up yet
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| His dad said he’d come get him
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| Bright and early Sunday morn'
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| But his mom knows he’s forgotten
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| Like he has since he was born
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| But he’s still waiting, he’s still waiting
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| He might be around the corner
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| Or just right down the street
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| He’s still waiting, he’s still waiting
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| He tells his mom, «Don't worry
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| This time he’ll come get me»
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| He’s still waiting
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| A group home in Kentucky
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| She’s been there for a while
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| They tell her that she’s lucky
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| She’s such a pretty child
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| Somebody’s gonna take you
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| And raise you as their own
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| She never knew her parents
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| And she’s never had a home
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| But she’s still waiting, she’s still waiting
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| They might be around the corner
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| Or just right down the street
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| She’s still waiting, she’s still waiting
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| She tells 'em, «I don’t worry
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| Someone will come for me»
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| She’s still waiting
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| They’re children of the needle
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| The bottle and the poor
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| The sum of broken people
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| Who can’t go on no more
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| Sad eyes and dirty faces
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| City streets and dirt roads
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| Their lives are slowly wasting
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| While everybody knows
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| They’re still waiting, they’re still waiting
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| All the little faces different races
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| Who don’t know what love is
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| They’re still waiting, they’re still waiting
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| All the sones and daughters of missing fathers
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| Who never miss their kids
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| They’re still waiting, they’re still waiting, they’re still waiting |