| I should’a killed you myself.
|
| It was always a dream of mine.
|
| I could’a used a little help,
|
| But red wine’s been, a good friend of mine.
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| I’ve got sad news.
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| Take off your shoes.
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| Sit down for a while,
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| A while.
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| A while, now.
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| Ohhh
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| I’m wearing me out.
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| I’m wearing my old clothes.
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| I’m writing all new poems.
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| I’m riding in my car.
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| Oh the children, they’re just babies.
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| Little baby-sized socks and shoes,
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| And I think that maybe
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| I should keep them away from you.
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| I’ll crawl in and then
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| I’ll creep out, out loud.
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| I’ve got a job.
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| I’m not proud.
|
| I’m not proud.
|
| No…
|
| I’m wearing me out.
|
| I’m wearing my old clothes.
|
| I’m writing all new poems.
|
| I’m riding in my car.
|
| Sad, sad.
|
| I’ve got sad news.
|
| I do.
|
| Sad news.
|
| I’ve got sad news.
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| But it’s all over now.(sad sad sad)
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| It’s all done. |
| (sad sad sad)
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| Red, Red Rover:
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| Can’t remember the game.
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| I’m wearing me out.
|
| I’m wearing my old clothes.
|
| I’m writing all new poems.
|
| I’m riding in my car. |