| Sukie was the kid
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| She liked to hangout in the graveyard
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| She did brass rubbings
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| She learned you never had to press hard
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| When she finished hanging out she was all alone
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| She decided that she better check in at home
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| There was an awful row between her mum and dad
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| They said she hadn’t done this, she hadn’t done that
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| If she wanted to remain inside the family home
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| She’d have to tow the line, she’d have to give it a go
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| It didn’t suit Sukie
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| So she took her things and left
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| Sukie was the kid
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| She liked to hang out at the art school
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| She didn’t enroll, but she wiped the floor with all the arseholes
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| She took a bijou flat with the fraternity cat
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| She hid inside the attic of the sculpture building
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| She had a slut slave and his name was Dave
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| She said 'Be my photo bitch and I’ll make you rich'
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| He didn’t believe her but the boy revered her
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| He got her meals and he got her a bed
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| He watched behind the screen and she started to undress
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| He never got far
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| Just looking and playing guitar
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| Autumn hanging down all the trees are draped like chandeliers
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| Sukie saw the beauty but she wasn’t wet behind the ears
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| She had an A1 body and a face to match
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| She didn’t have money, she didn’t have cash
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| With the winter coming on, and the attic cold
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| She had to press her nose on the refectory wall
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| They served steamed puddings she went without
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| She had to pose for life for all the scholars of art
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| She didn’t feel funny, she didn’t feel bad
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| Peeling away everything she had
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| She had the grace of an eel, sleek and stark
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| As the shadows played tricks on the girl in the dark
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| Sukie was the kid, she liked to hangout in the graveyard |