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Old James Dean Monroe
Hands out flowers at the Shop-N-Go
Hopes for money but all he gets is fear
And the wind blows up his coat
And this he scribbles on a perfume note
"If I'm not here, then you're not here"
And he says, "Call me Miscreation,
I'm a walking celebration"
And it's hard to make a stand
Hard to make a stand
Hard to make a stand
Hard to make a stand
My friend, o lawdy,