| Well, the bum was in my trash, he’s pickin' out all the cans
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| Firewater burnin' up his poor swollen glands
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| The Lysol and the Listerine, it went to his head
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| He eats a-boot black, rotted, on a piece of white bread
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| He did the Pink, yeah The Pink Elephant
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| Blinded by the sauce, you know I’d rather stay bent
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| I do the Pink, The Pink Elephant
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| Blinded by the sauce, you know I’d rather stay bent
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| Sleazy P. Martini ran The Pink Elephant
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| With hot-pink curtains where the sloe gin decants
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| (A shave and a haircut, knock knock) would for sure get you in
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| To see the Cherry Poppin' Daddies play
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| The lampshades were zebra skin
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| He did the Pink, The Pink Elephant
|
| Blinded by the sauce, you know I’d rather stay bent
|
| I do the Pink, The Pink Elephant
|
| Blinded by the sauce, you know I’d rather stay
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| Rather stay bent
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| Hell yeah, I’d rather stay bent
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| My mouth is like a circus but I’m always in debt
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| I’d never pass the bar unless I thought it was wet
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| But that’s the way they sucker me to my final result
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| But when they shake 'em up, I’m drinkin' 'em down…
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| You’re headed to the Pink, yeah The Pink Elephant
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| Blinded by the sauce, you know I’d rather stay bent
|
| I do the Pink, The Pink Elephant
|
| Blinded by the sauce, you know I’d rather stay
|
| I’d rather stay
|
| I’d rather stay
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| I’d rather stay bent, I’d rather stay bent |