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In Memory |
© Michael Peter Smith and Pete Special

First time I saw Bobby Jean
It was down at the Monterey Grill
On a Saturday morning when the streets were green
And the lake was dark and still
Bobby she give me this sideways look
I knew that I was history like in the book
I'm not superstitious ordinarily
But I think that she voodooed me

She makes the crowd shout out loud
Sets the clown to crying
She's the blonde on the beach
That's just out of reach
Lets you know that you don't mind dying
Every night you're going
Station to station on the Ravenswood
Missing that girl who loved you so good
Gonna have one girl in the whole wide world
Lord let it be Bobby Jean

She had a little flat on the south side of Pratt
With a fire escape that was broken
We'd send out for Thai and key lime pie
Bathing suits in the kitchen sink soaking
She made my lake get dark and stormy
She made my sky to shed big tears
She had my moon under contract
She had my silence and my years

She makes the crowd shout out loud...

When these streets get their hold on you
You're like the Rip Van Winkle of Lincoln Avenue
See her face and you always will
In the moon shining bright over Streeterville

She had a poem in her smile
I'd give anything to write
I see her walking back from the Sheridan Beach
As evening turns to night

Me I'm looking at license plates
I'm like Norman Bates man
Watching all the street signs
My friends say I'm going through the motions
The emotions watching all the heat signs
Some kind of mandala working here
But I can't help feeling bereft
On some plane she's always coming back to me
On another she never left

She makes the crowd shout out loud...

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