| Your crawfish fingers and your dirty dregs
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| Your sideways stingers and your wooden legs
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| They’re throwing out jewels like rotten eggs
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| 'Cause it’s Christmas in Siam and we’re rough on rats
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| Your scarecrow spiders and your shipwreck bones
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| The fossilized bibles of Geronimo Jones
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| His star-spangled army in their roadhouse clothes
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| 'Cause a hero can’t bronze his soul and we’re rough on rats
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| There’s shattered glass on the dance floor
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| A cop chaperoning a doll
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| The testament of a landlord
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| Who’s living in a hollow log
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| The burlap flowers and the cocaine dirt
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| The horn of plenty in a desert of hurt
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| The corduroy boy in the killjoy shirt
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| He’s a stereotype on ice and we’re rough on rats
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| So what do you think you could take from the heap
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| Where the haystack needles are piled up cheap?
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| You can buy what’s useless and steal what you need
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| In the pink penitentiary and we’re rough on rats |