| You woke up in the rusted frame
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| Of a burned out old DeVille
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| Your legs are shot and they’re flushed with pain
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| But you can’t keep them still
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| The sun sets and you’re afraid
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| Of that itching in your skin
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| You stumble down the boulevard
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| Of neon encrusted temples
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| You’re looking for the grace of God
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| In the arms of a fellow stranger
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| Disciples hand you catalogs and concubines
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| As you stumble down the boulevard crying «Hosanna»
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| Welcome to fabulous
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| Welcome to fabulous Las Vegas
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| Give us your dreamers, your harlots and your sins
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| Las Vegas
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| Didn’t nobody tell you the house will always win?
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| Cameras on the ceiling tile, no place for you to hide
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| It’s a hundred seven and you’re looking for shade
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| That no palm tree can provide
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| But there’s a little girl you remember back in Tennessee
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| You have this reoccurring dream
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| Where you see her playing hide and seek
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| With a woman who used to know you very well
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| Sunsets and neon lights
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| Call girls and neon lights
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| Black jack and lady luck
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| Cocaine and lady luck
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| You call upon her on holy knees tonight
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| In Las Vegas
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| Give us your dreamers, your harlots and your sins
|
| Las Vegas
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| Didn’t nobody tell you?
|
| Didn’t nobody tell you?
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| Didn’t nobody tell you the house will always win? |