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A Month Of Sundays
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Don Henley
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I used to work for Harvester
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I used to use my hands
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I used to make the tractors and the combines that plowed and harvested
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This great land
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Now I see my handiwork on the block everywhere I turn
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And I see the clouds 'cross the weathered faces and I watch the harvest burn
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I quit the plant in '57
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Had some time for farmin' then
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Banks back then was lendin' money
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The banker was the farmer's friend
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And I've seen dog days and dusty days;
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Late spring snow and early fall sleet;
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I've held the leather reins in my hands and felt the soft ground under my feet
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Between the hot dry weather and the taxes, and the Cold War it's been hard
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To make ends meet
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But I always kept the clothes on our backs;
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I always put the shoes on our feet
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My grandson, he comes home from college
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He says, "We get the government we deserve."
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My son-in-law just shakes his head and says, "That little punk, he never
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Had to serve."
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And I sit here in the shadow of the suburbs and look out across these
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Empty fields
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I sit here in earshot of the bypass and all night I listen to the rushin'
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Of the wheels
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The big boys, they all got computers; got incorporated, too
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Me, I just know how to raise things
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That was all I ever knew
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Now, it all comes down to numbers
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Now I'm glad that I have quit
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Folks these days just don't do nothin' simply for the love of it
Don Henley - The Boys Of Summer
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