| I’m seven years old,
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| And my bow-tie's askew
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| Gonna get some body of Jesus Christ
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| In a brown velvet suit
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| All the girls are dressed
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| Like angels
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| How sweetly they sang
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| Oh be not afraid of Us delicate meringues
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| The trailing skirts of God
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| Have passed on by It’s five years later and
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| I’m on my knees again
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| I am here to confirm what my Parents began
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| And I promise to abstain from
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| Intoxicating liquor
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| But the flesh, it is weak,
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| And my faith was never stronger
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| The trailing skirts of God
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| Have passed on by But oh how I cling on Cos it’s been a rich seam of song
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| And though it’s make-believe
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| Can I bring myself to leave
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| This lie’s been burning too long
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| Sometimes in my teens up in Kellyer’s bedroom
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| Skipping on Saturday evening
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| Mass for some solvent abuse
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| As the world spun around me,
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| And I eased to the floor
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| Must remember to get that sermon,
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| And keep the wolf from the door
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| The trailing skirts of God
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| Have passed on by
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| I’ve drifted far from you
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| In this bloodless coup
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| I say good-day and adieu |