| Well, Frankie Lee and Judas Priest
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| They were the best of friends
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| So when Frankie Lee needed money one day
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| Judas quickly pulled out a roll of tens
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| And placed them on a footstool
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| Just above the plotted plain
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| Sayin', «Take your pick, Frankie Boy
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| My loss will be your gain»
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| Well, Frankie Lee, he sat right down
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| And put his fingers to his chin
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| But with the cold eyes of Judas on him
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| His head began to spin
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| «Could ya please not stare at me like that?,» he said
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| «It's just my foolish pride
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| But sometimes a man must be alone
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| And this is no place to hide»
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| Well, Judas, he just winked and said
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| «Alright, I’ll leave you here
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| But you’d better hurry up and choose which of those bills you want
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| Before they all disappear»
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| «I'm gonna start my pickin' right now
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| Just tell me where you’ll be»
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| Judas pointed down the road
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| And said, «Eternity!»
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| «Eternity?» |
| said Frankie Lee
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| With a voice as cold as ice
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| «That's right,» said Judas, «Eternity
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| Though you might call it ‘Paradise'»
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| «I don’t call it anything»
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| Said Frankie Lee with a smile |
| «All right,» said Judas Priest
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| «I'll see you after a while»
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| Well, Frankie Lee, he sat back down
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| Feeling low and mean
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| When just then a passin' stranger
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| Burst upon the scene
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| Saying, «Are you Frankie Lee, the gambler
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| Whose father’s deceased?
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| Well, if you are, there’s a fellow callin' you down the road
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| And they say his name is Priest»
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| «Oh, yes, he is my friend»
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| Said Frankie Lee in fright
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| «I do recall him very well
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| In fact, he just left my sight»
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| «Yes, that’s the one,» said the stranger
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| As quiet as a mouse
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| «Well, my message is, he’s down the road
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| Stranded in a house»
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| Well, Frankie Lee, he panicked
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| He dropped everything and ran
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| Until he came up to the spot
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| Where Judas Priest did stand
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| «What kind of house is this,» he said
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| «Where I have come to roam?»
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| «It's not a house,» says Judas Priest
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| «It's not a house, it’s a home»
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| Well, Frankie Lee, he trembled
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| He soon lost all control
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| Over ev’rything which he had made
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| While the mission bells did toll
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| He just stood there staring
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| At that big house as bright as any sun |
| With four and twenty windows
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| And a woman’s face in ev’ry one
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| Well, up the stairs ran Frankie Lee
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| With a soulful, bounding leap
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| And, foaming at the mouth
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| He began to make his midnight creep
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| For sixteen nights and days he raved
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| But on the seventeenth he burst
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| Into the arms of Judas Priest
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| Which is where he died of thirst
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| No one tried to say a thing
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| When they carried him out in jest
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| Except, of course, the little neighbor boy
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| Who carried him to rest
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| And he just walked along, alone
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| With his guilt so well concealed
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| And muttered underneath his breath
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| «Nothing is revealed»
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| Well, the moral of this story
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| The moral of this song
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| Is simply that one should never be
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| Where one does not belong
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| So when you see your neighbor carrying somethin'
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| Help him with his load
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| And don’t go mistaking Paradise
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| For that home across the road |