| The president’s dead, the radio said,
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| Dear friends, is it not so horrible?
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| A shot through my heart, like a knife right through bread,
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| The newspaper said the president’s dead.
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| The sea doesn’t dry and the sky isn’t split,
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| But friends it just seems so wrong, don’t it?
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| A shot from the crowd, and a shot in the head,
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| The president’s lying on the tarmac dead.
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| He’s lying face down with his black-dressed agents
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| Guns drawn running around and the early Obit’s
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| Say he was a good man, you can’t argue with that
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| Not today you can’t, not now you can’t.
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| In the media tent where they spin and they slant,
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| They just foam the mouth and they chant at the bit,
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| Those bloodsuckers can wait until those vulture’s cool in,
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| The newscaster said, «The President’s dead.»
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| Let’s imagine the way, let’s say 30 years in,
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| How somebody will say, «What you were doing when???»
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| On a beautiful day, I was waking up and
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| I was lying in bed with my girlfriend
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| And the eggs on the plate, and the bacon hissin'
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| And the coffee was great, there was spring on the wind.
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| If you don’t live through a day for the littlest things,
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| And the littlest ways made you feel you were blessed
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| If you died right then, well you know you’d be missed,
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| But there’s no better state to cease to exist
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| And you wouldn’t feel sad, and you wouldn’t resist
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| Cause you knew what you had, and were thankful for it
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| In your own little way, I’m a small quiet man
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| I’ve got no wars to win, I don’t have a big plan
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| But I love my new place, and I love my old friends
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| And I scrimp and I save, and one day I’ll have kids.
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| I can truthfully say that my day was like that,
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| 'Til the radio playing on the stand by the bed
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| Fired out this report and in 3 words they said,
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| Like three shots to my head,
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| «The President’s Dead.» |