| Here’s a word about my ex-girlfriend
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| Towards the end conflict off and on And I told her one night, «Honey every time we fight
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| I’ll write a verse to this song»
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| Well, things got bad and things got worse
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| Still I struggled on So sit back and get all comfortable
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| `Cause this little tunes six fuckin’hours long
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| And every journey’s got destinations
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| Which the traveler can’t expect
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| So how’s that I’m always winding up Down here at land’s edge?
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| Now if love is blind why did her stockings
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| Always look so cool?
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| Now I know I was paying attention
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| But somehow I got fooled
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| Well I gave her seven children
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| And a twelve room uptown shack
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| And when it all was over
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| Took a dozen lawyers
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| To get half back
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| But I already got me a new gal to ruin my life
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| And she might just yet,
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| So I’m helping her find an apartment
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| Down here at land’s edge
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| Now take the traveler and the tourist
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| The essential difference is The traveler don’t know where he’s goin'
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| And the tourist don’t know where he is Small world till they lose your luggage, tho'
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| Take the stripper who lives next door
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| You’d swear this kid was 21 goin’on 44
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| But luckily that ain’t how she sees it Got a new tattoo that says:
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| «when I die, send the body to heaven,
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| Lost the rest at land’s edge» |