| By rights we should have been choking
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| On every word the Preacher had us repeat
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| A stiff drink and napkins in your hand bag
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| The first aid of a three-time divorcee
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| Carried you home down through the subway
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| Where thrills are cheap and the kids roll down walls
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| Like paint
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| Borrowed Gods been rubbing their backs on your window
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| Your summers are haunted with memories of love sick
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| Strays
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| Pick up your chin there’s a Saint on the mend
|
| On a burnt out estate born of bones that don’t bend
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| Coming back stealing hearts pulling through
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| Brand fire new
|
| Mary goes a-diving in at the deep end
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| At the sliding doors of the 13th floor she prays
|
| She says night fall gently on the weekend
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| When tempers are high and all those frustrations
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| Displayed
|
| Pick up your chin there’s a Saint on the mend
|
| On a burnt out estate born of bones that don’t bend
|
| Coming back stealing hearts pulling through
|
| Brand fire new
|
| Pick up your chin there’s a Saint on the mend
|
| On a burnt out estate born of bones that don’t bend
|
| Coming back stealing hearts pulling through
|
| Brand fire new
|
| I’m hit, I’m down, I’m done, I’m dusted, I’m deadbeat
|
| I am weak as a kitten, been strapped to the tracks of a
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| Train
|
| I have danced with the drunks, and dodged all those
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| Filthy old whispers
|
| But baby go give 'em hell and tell 'em it came with a
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| Name
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| Brand fire new |