| It really was a meeting
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| The bottle took a beating
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| The ladies of the manor
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| Watched me climb into my car and I was
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| Going down the track about a hundred and five
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| They had the stopwatch rolling
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| I had the headlights blazing I was really alive
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| And yet my mind was blowing
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| I drank a bottle of tequila and I felt real good
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| I had the tape deck roaring
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| But on the twenty-fifth lap at the canal turn
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| I went off exploring
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| I knew I wouldn’t make it the car just wouldn’t make it
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| I was turning the tires burning
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| The ground was in my sky
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| I was laughing the bitch was trashed
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| And death was in my eye
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| I had started pretty good and I was feeling my way
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| I had the wheels in motion
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| There was Peter and the Greenfly laughing like drains
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| Inebriation
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| The crowd was roaring I was at Brands Hatch
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| In my imagination
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| But at the canal turn I hit an oily patch
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| Inebriation
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| Ooh Mr. Miracle, you saved me from some pain
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| I thank you Mr. Miracle, I won’t get trashed again
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| Ooh, can you hear my lies
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| Don’t you bother with this fool just laugh into my eyes
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| So we went back to the bar and hit the bottle again
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| But there was no tequila
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| Then we started on the whiskey just to steady our brains
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| 'Cause there was no tequila
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| And as we drank a little faster at the top of our hill
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| We began to roll
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| And as we got trashed we were laughing still
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| Oh bless my soul |