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Introducción: Bm G D A
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Five-hundred channels and there ain't much on tonight
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But reality shows about some folk's so-called lives
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A pretty girl cries 'cause she don't get a rose
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But she'll find love next year on her own show
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And they call that real
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Real is a hand you hold fifty-seven years
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Real is a band of gold tremblin' with fear
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It's the first long tear down an old man's face,
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watchin' his angel slippin' away
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His heart's so broke, it's never gonna heal
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I call that real
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Where I live, housewives don't act like that
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And the survivors are farmers in John Deere hats
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Our amazin' race is beatin' the check
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Prayin' that the bank ain't ran it through yet
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Real, like too much rain fallin' from the sky
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Real, like the drought that came around here last July
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It's the damn boll weevils and the market and the weeds,
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the prayer they're sayin' when they plant the seeds
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And the chance they take to bring us our next meal
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I call that real
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Real, like a job you lose 'cause it moves to Mexico
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Like a mama and a baby with no safe place to go
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Like a little dream house with a big old foreclosed sign
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Like a flag-draped coffin and a twenty-one gun goodbye
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I call that real
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Man, I call that real
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Oh, I call that real