| It’s the hottest summer anyone can remember
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| Everybody knows something’s gonna start
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| This fella sings with a hundred and one reasons
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| For you to give him the keys, the keys to your heart
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| Guitars crash land in flames from hell
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| With bullets for rich or poor
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| A voice rings out like a bell
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| Cutting trough the chaos of hate and war
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| Back to basics, guitar picks, drumsticks — spirit of ‘76
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| Sceptics, slapsticks, limericks and plastics — spirit of ‘76
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| Convicts, ethnics, mavericks and beatniks — spirit of ‘76
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| Psychics, mystics, politics and con tricks — spirit of ‘76
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| While Mister Nasty makes enemies of new statesmen
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| And others jam with soul but nothing new
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| And Yankee cars play the same old, on the stereo
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| He walks up to the mike and he shows us what to do
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| Music like this can kick down doors
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| Dressed in rags with style
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| They don’t believe the truth no more
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| A white riot leaves them bleeding in the aisles
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| Back to Basics, guitar picks, drumsticks — spirit of ‘76
|
| Sceptics, slapsticks, limericks and plastics — spirit of ‘76
|
| Convicts, ethnics, mavericks and beatniks — spirit of ‘76
|
| Psychics, mystics, politics and con tricks — spirit of ‘76
|
| And nothing’s gonna be the same again
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| Said nothing’s gonna be the same again
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| Music like this can kick down doors
|
| Dressed in rags with style
|
| They don’t believe the truth no more
|
| A white riot leaves them bleeding in the aisles |