| Under the stairs, beyond the neon lamp, the chaps are thinking
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| She does not care to sit and stare, her blood eyes blinking
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| She works forever, each and every day
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| And she’s reminded of every small mistake
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| And she’s descended from a local ______________
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| And so she walks all of her precious trails the wrong direction
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| She does not talk, but rather recommends with good intentions
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| She walks forever, at an even pace
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| And she remembers every last detail
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| And she’s been counted every single way
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| She says «A hundred million people could be wrong
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| A hundred million people could be wrong
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| A hundred million people have been wrong before
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| A hundred million people could be wrong.»
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| And we could wait for him to make just one slight wrong move
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| Ain’t it a shame when he walks away with just one slight wrong move. |
| (?)
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| And we work forever each and every day and we surrender
|
| Anyway, in so many different ways
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| We said «A hundred million people can be wrong
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| A hundred million people could be wrong
|
| A hundred million people could be wrong
|
| A hundred million people have been wrong before
|
| A hundred million people could be wrong.» |