| Hey uncle louie, I wrote you a song
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| I’m glad you got your heart out of pawn
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| I’m glad you got your king out of check
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| At least that’s how things stood when I saw you last
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| It was New Orleans before the flood
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| You had just met a girl! |
| you were falling in love!
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| She lived on the levee and knew the blues
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| And played harmonica better than you
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| In a neighborhood bar
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| In the middle of summer
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| Shoulder-to-shoulder
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| Setting like sister and brother
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| All of the sorrows you told each other
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| Rose like smoke from the room
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| The heat and the bourbon was in your head
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| You were talking in tongues! |
| you were back from the dead!
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| And the girl and the city were one and the same
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| And last call never came
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| And I can see you swimming out into the street
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| I can hear you singing, «when I die, don’t cry for me»
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| Hey uncle louie, the city is spinning
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| She sure is pretty. |
| you sure are grinning
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| She’s leading you home from the heat of the bar
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| To lie on the levee and look at the stars
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| You can hold her hand
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| You can kiss her face
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| Go slow if you can
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| Cause the world is a very sad place
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| And when she leaves she’ll leave no trace
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| And the world will still be there
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| The sky is colored in purple and yellow
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| You lie on the levee with stones for pillows
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| And you and the girl and the city make love
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| With the harlequin sky up above |