| If I were to pass a house caught on fire
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| Well, I ought to see if I could save anyone
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| But if I believed that nobody’d see me
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| I’ve got to admit, I’d be tempted to run
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| It’s not that I don’t feel sorry
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| It’s just I can’t say what I’ve done
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| And don’t look to me struck down by lightning
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| In a field full of rain, when you’re lying there stunned
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| I’d try to help — but Lord, I’d be queasy
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| I mean
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| Well
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| What if you were dead?
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| I’d be tempted to run
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| It’s not that I don’t feel sorry
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| It’s just I can’t say what I’ve done
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| Given the choice, I’d rather not go hunting
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| Gathering is more my style
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| It’s not that I don’t feel sorry
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| It’s just I can’t say what I’ve done
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| It’s not that I don’t feel sorry
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| It’s just I can’t say what I’ve done |