| I’ll show you them now, those boys without cares
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| Who’d swapped dirty pictures and talked during prayers
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| They grew up with wisdom they’d stored from «those days»
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| Nobody told them to get in they must change
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| I’ll show you them now. |
| Come with me and
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| I’ll show you them now
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| The teachers laughed with them class idiot style
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| After all they weren’t their kids so why should they mind
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| Boyish good looks held the wrath back a while
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| Then they were drummed in and thumped in and soon left behind
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| Alcoholics, child molesters, nervous wrecks and prima donnas
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| Jilted lovers, office clerks, petty thieves, hard drug pursuers
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| Lonely tramps, awkward misfits, oh anyone of these
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| Mortgaged up families looked at first too mundane
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| But it’s funny how with help all the lucky ones changed
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| Some of them couldn’t, there had to be more
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| Music, I dunno, films, something special perhaps
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| I’ll show you them now, come with me
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| And I’ll show you them now
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| It’s so hard to picture dirty tramps as young boys
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| But if you see a man crying, hold his hand, he’s my friend
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| If these words sound corny, switch this off, I don’t care
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| Nearby he’s still crying, I won’t smile while he’s there
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| Nearby he’s still crying. |
| I won’t smile while he’s there |