| A queue that wore the mark of her thumbnail
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| Has been pulled down
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| From off the wall
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| Daring the billiard ball
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| To bait its own narrow trap
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| The young one finds the doorman quite good looking
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| He considers me a fag
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| Because he’s the judge of «all that»
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| He and maybe a dozen bros
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| That have been unloved by the dads
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| The young one goes to gather all her catcalls
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| I’ll play dead through every song
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| That ever tried to right those wrongs
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| That will start a talk we don’t wanna have
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| I see the mark from that little thumbnail
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| Now she’s done with me
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| Just look at what she’s done to me
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| Out of sight without a mind
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| Like a mess in a room you don’t see
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| Laying in the queue just out of view |