| She comes out on Sundays
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| She moves after midnight
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| And everything’s secret and sacred
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| She’s got medical reasons
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| For all these prescriptions
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| I suppose that’s enough explanation
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| I ask what she’s up to
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| She just looked at the floor
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| She’s done playing music, she’s bored of the tunes
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| She don’t go to shows anymore
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| She asked where I’m living these days
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| And I decided to tell her the truth
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| She don’t go out to the shows anymore
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| But she still knows the boys and the blues
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| Shake off the shadows
|
| Bash through the boards
|
| Wipe the grime from the windows
|
| Look out over the corners
|
| Sandra from Scranton
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| All dressed up and dancing
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| We’re poised to make moves
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| We shined up our shoes
|
| The expectations were made true
|
| We posed for the pictures
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| All shiny and shattered
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| And your sister went off for some actor
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| So we scatter like spores
|
| And try to find purchase in dirt
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| She once met a boy and she thought it might work
|
| The boy that she met was a jerk
|
| Shake off the shadows
|
| Bash through the boards
|
| Wipe the grime from the windows
|
| Look out over the corners
|
| Sandra from Scranton
|
| All dressed up and dancing
|
| We aren’t gonna split any atoms tonight
|
| The future is only uncertain
|
| The guys on the bikes got whatever you like
|
| And a bird in the hand is worth something
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| Didn’t go to work on Monday or Tuesday
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| And no, that’s not how I planned it
|
| Blew out the first few days of this week
|
| On Sunday with Sandra from Scranton
|
| On Sunday with Sandra from Scranton |