| An outcry
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| To lost dreams and sense of wonder
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| To the streets that raised him. | 
| Say
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| «Goodbye» to the hope for the home he’d been holding
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| Say, «Goodbye» and «Be gone» and «Be great.»
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| To the friends who left when they still could
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| For the ones who chose to stay to waste away unplaced
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| Alone, and pray
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| To get out
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| To grow old
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| To grow strong and
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| Leave this city, so familiar all it’s places
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| All these memories turn each day more to gray
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| More they space out till it’s once a year we’ll catch up, maybe less, or
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| Else just daydreams while he’s working late
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| Thinks only of those friends and when they left
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| «Are we still friends at all, my friends?»
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| Can I leave?
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| Rewind and find a younger man
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| All hopes and goals and dreams alight and
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| Bright with friendship at the crossroads in the night
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| «Now make a choice,» the city said
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| We were barely twenty then, but
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| While I swore it my allegiance
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| They chose leaving, all my friends. | 
| And
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| Now it’s letters, maybe phone calls, that
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| Come less and less each year
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| All addressed with wives and children
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| To the fool who chose to stay here
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| And it hurts me to know I’m alone now
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| And it’s worse when I know that I chose it
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| Don’t make the same mistake as me
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| Don’t make the same mistake
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| And now my friends have all left. | 
| Or it’s been me gone all along.
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| I guess we all part one day and drop like leaves into The breeze.
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| And ain’t it wild? | 
| Ain’t it bitter? | 
| (Didn't it carry you from me?
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| ) But it’s the coping with my fear that keeps me Here. | 
| See, once it’s gone you
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| can’t retrieve it (Do I regret you? Can I forget you?) I still believe I might
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| get left here. | 
| I Might turn 63 still sweeping up the gutters in the street or
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| weeding concrete. | 
| Wait and see. | 
| We’ll wait and see. | 
| Or, rather, I will. | 
| Only me
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| Only me
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| «Don't make the same mistake as me. | 
| Say ‘Goodbye' and ‘Be gone' and ‘Be great'
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| and be done and be free.» |