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Sunday at 2, ten years ago I had to build my chops to make a show Tried to relax and do my best Didn't change the fact that I was a guest As the afternoon lingered on It was time to leave Trick up my sleeve I hoped to show And everybody seemed to come From all over no limits none Singers, players some got together They seemed to click no matter the weather They all seemed to know my name Pressure was loud To please the crowd Hang on now CHORUS: No time to bide At Eddie's Trackside With Amaretto and a side of fries No time to bide At Eddie's Trackside when Sunday was showtime Alissa had her Everyday Jones Rodney sang Wonderwall, to chill your bones Fisher's band, the man of the hour The band was the main draw that had the power With all of my music Did I make a stand They gave a hand To be sure There was no time to bide At Eddie's Trackside With Amaretto and a side of fries No time to bide At Eddie's Trackside When Sunday was showtime No time to bide At Eddie's Trackside And they got my pro picture No time to bide at Eddie's Trackside When Sunday was showtime showtime showtime showtime Eddie's Trackside is gone Eddie's Trackside is gone
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