| Father owned the dating bar so mother ran the store
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| We all lived there together with the army at the door
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| No one to do my laundry or to tell me that they’re sure
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| But there really is no me and there’s no army at the door
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| I hustle my way to your bedside
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| I ride on your body like a cab ride
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| I carry refreshments to the good guys
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| I made the good guys some home fries
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| Pardon me anyone, where is the nearest shore?
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| We’re all in this together and the police are at the door
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| Someone do my laundry or smash me through the floor
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| To the tropical vacation buried underneath the store
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| And I was your favorite bullfighter
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| Whose looks were new to your eyes
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| And I fell apart in that bullfight
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| Where the dress was the sky to your thighs
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| She said that she had an hour
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| Her father, he was in the shower
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| And she took me to her little tower
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| And she showed me her little flower
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| And just when I thought it was safe to put down my pen
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| She said, «Maybe I will let you fall in love with me again
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| Maybe I will let you fall for a loving me again»
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| And she showed me her badge and I think she said then
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| That I don’t have the heart to tell you not to come
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| And everyone has hands just to use someone
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| And it makes me feel just like old gum
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| To ride a fake horse into town
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| To ride a lame horse into town
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| To ride a dead horse into town
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| To ride your big fuckin', fake fuckin'
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| Lame fuckin' dead horse into town |