| A knockoff necktie
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| The way he wore it made it look more like a tourniquet
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| I looked deep in his eyes
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| I saw Lynn, Massachussetts
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| She hung a sleeveless dress up on a sleeved up lifestyle
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| Girl you gotta cover that
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| She saw him gushing blood from wide open wounds
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| And she decided that she loved him
|
| They put the screws into Charlemagne
|
| He had a detox dream he saw Christ in all his glory
|
| Charlemagne didn’t feel any pain
|
| But he’s bleeding from the holes in his story
|
| He said, «Hey my name is Corey»
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| «I'm really into hardcore
|
| People call me Hard Corey.»
|
| Don’t you hate these clever people
|
| And all these clever people parties
|
| In the park drinking Dark Bacardi
|
| Thinking things are funny when they really ain’t that funny
|
| The kids on the corner they keep getting stung
|
| The color of our teeth matches the color of our tongues
|
| In the Back Bay Fens getting gentle
|
| Up against the fence with some guy who looks like Mickey Mantle
|
| Dirty minds keep coming through the mud
|
| The color of their eyes matches the color of our blood
|
| He had a painters cap
|
| It said Panama Jack, it had the flaps on the back
|
| That kept the sun off his neck
|
| He woke up deep in Hostile, Massachussetts
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| Reaching out to try to touch the special effects
|
| He had no shoes and no pants
|
| And they dressed him in a shirt with a collar
|
| And they called him Porky Pig
|
| And the two of you went up to his room
|
| Later on you wouldn’t admit you did
|
| Seeing lousy movies but only for the A/C
|
| Skimpy little outfits and bad guys acting crazy
|
| And that’s how I know when you’re lying
|
| It looks just like overacting
|
| The kids on the corner are cracking and caving in
|
| Turning over and turning other kids in
|
| I never want to make you feel uncomfortable
|
| I hope I never did
|
| They met as kids he was angry and angsty
|
| Yeah, she was a damned good dancer
|
| I’ll be damned if they didn’t disappear
|
| Wandered out of mass one day and faded into the fog and love and faithless fear
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| Charlemagne in sweatpants and you and me in Hostile, Massachussetts |