Letter from the county farm, letter from the county farm
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And the wind it has been blowin'
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Its been blowin' so strong
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They're afraid to raise the flag 'less it gets torn to shreds
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But God forbid the wind should ever stop blowin'
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But if it did
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I'm sure we'd all fall down
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But sometimes it isn't windy
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Like last February
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I remember it snowed
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and a week later it hailed
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And now it looks like raining
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Now it looks like raining
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I'm convinced that what makes the rain and hail so heavy over here
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is that the sherrif has been messing with out minds.
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handin' out questionnaries to the pris'ners who are blind
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to the pris'ners who are blind
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Let me tell you one thing new at the county farm
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They've got muzak in the fields
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which makes this life of mine a little more unreal
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a little more unreal
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But I wish they'd kill the sounds, I wish they'd kill the sounds
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You don't knowwhat it's like to hear Debussy in a California prison field
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And I love
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I love to sing while I'm workin'
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I love to sing while I'm workin'
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And the wind has been blowin'
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And the wind has been blowin'
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I've given up reading for a time and taken up other pastimes
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Such as watchin' winos gum their food and epileptics havin' bad times
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More frequently I've been lost in this game
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And it looks like they're gonna make a crim'nal out of me
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A criminal out of me
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But those guys who are down on me winnin'
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Lord knows, they take the game so seriously
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But what hurts me more, burts me more than anything
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Is when I get your mail
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When I get your mail, they've cut you
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They've cut out the parts and the words that have feeling
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So I'm left with only part of you
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I say I'm only left with part of you
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And the wind has been blowin'
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And the wind has been blowin'
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Oh, play your guitar, baby
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Play your guitar, baby,
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Get me off this farm, baby, take me away...
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And apart from all this crap there is some peace and quiet
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Except for the screws grumbling and mumbling and calling me a long hair
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I wouldn't mind, but they cut my hair quite some time ago
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They cut it off when I first came here
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Which tells me Indo-China is really here behind this wire
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And it soon will be dying engulfed in their own fire, in their own fire
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In fact, they tell me that a boy like me shouldn't think like that
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But this is murder and everybody accepts that.
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Lord knows, they all accept it, and everybody knows thatt ain't where its at
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So take care, pray for rain and maybe I'll see you
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Visiting hours next week
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And when the screw, when the screw says no touching,
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Lord knows, I'll turn the other cheek.
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(Burdon, Gordon)
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Letter From the County Farm
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The Animals |