Money doesn’t grow on trees.
Money blows on down the street
and I got a buck now.
Guess I feel like Chuck now.

Loving doesn’t ever leave.
Loving stays inside of me,
and I don’t give a fuck now.
I guess, I feel like Chuck now.

Walking the morning’s sidewalk, I ran into me.
I was balanced near the road,
and I was living in my phone.
I fell there.

Walking across the crosswalk, I ran over me.
I was flying down the road,
and I had stopped to say hello.
Left me there.

Something, somehow always speaks,
something deep inside of me.
So, I don’t need no luck now.
Guess I feel like Chuck now.

Somehow, this thing always beats.
Somehow, doesn’t stop to think.
It’s floating like a duck now.
Guess it feels like Chuck now.

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