| Well, I’ve been to a minor place
|
| And I can say I like its face
|
| If I am gone and with no trace
|
| I will be in my minor place
|
| Well, I put the shoes in line
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| Separate the women mine
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| As we do what we do fine
|
| So victorious, so benign
|
| Well, I’ve been to a minor place
|
| And I can say I like its face
|
| If I am gone and with no trace
|
| I will be in my minor place
|
| Only take the weather warm
|
| And the job that does me harm
|
| Since the scars of last year’s storm
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| Rest like maggots on my arm
|
| Well, I’ve been to a minor place
|
| And I can say I like its face
|
| If I am gone and with no trace
|
| I will be in my minor place
|
| Thank you man if for the thought
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| That all my loving can be bought
|
| Was wisely in your gullet caught
|
| Before my loyalty you sought
|
| Well, I’ve been to a minor place
|
| And I can say I like its face
|
| If I am gone and with no trace
|
| I will be in my minor place
|
| O it’s not a desert nor a web
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| Nor a tomb where I lay dead
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| Minor in a sound alone
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| Yes a clear commanding tone
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| Singing from my little point
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| And aching in my every joint
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| I thank the world it will anoint me
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| If I show it how I hold it |