I come from Tin Pan Valley and I'm moving right along
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I live on former glory, so long ago and gone
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I'm turning down the talk shows, the humour and the couch
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I'm moving up to higher ground, I've found a new way out.
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There's parasols and barbeques and loungers by the pool
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The late night conversations filled with 20th century cool
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My peers may flirt with cabaret, some fake the rebel yell
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Me - I'm moving up to higher ground, I must escape this hell.
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Let me suspend my thirst for knowledge in your powder, sweat and sighs
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A grudge of Christian women, a stain of spotless wives
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A perfect destination inside a perfect world
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I take the bottle to the baby, you take the hammer to the pearl
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Like this
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Every day's like Sunday, down here on memory lane
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Salad days and no good ways drive me quite insane
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A cocktail clouded troubadour attempts to speak in tongues
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He's said enough, I'm through the door I'm moving right along
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Like this
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Tin Pan Valley
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Robert Plant |