| Out on the fringe
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| Where the shallows meet the scratchlands
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| Out where hope and the highway ends
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| You can park or cruise
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| Both ways you lose
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| This is Flytown now my friend
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| You take a walk on Bleak Street
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| Tonight could be the night you crash
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| Then you turn and stop
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| Start to fingerpop
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| You think you hear a wailin' combo
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| You climb a flight of twisted stairs
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| Some cat says buddy
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| If you’ve got eyes
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| To rhythmatize
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| Bring your flat hat and your ax
|
| 'Cause tonight at ten
|
| We’ll be workin' again
|
| At the Teahouse on the Tracks
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| The Siegel Bros. were slammin' out a baion
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| So slick it should have been a crime
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| Irene and Flocko and little Amy Khan
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| Lead off the big front line
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| The crowd was bouncin' in sync with the pulse
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| You get a case of party feet
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| (Then the room turns bright
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| And fills up with light)
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| And then from somewhere deep inside you
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| Some frozen stuff begins to crack
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| Better hurry
|
| If you’ve got eyes
|
| To rhythmatize
|
| Bring your flat hat and your ax
|
| 'Cause tonight at ten
|
| We’ll be workin' again
|
| At the Teahouse on the Tracks
|
| Take the T-Line to Bleak and Divine
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| Just above the Good Time Flats
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| It’s your last chance
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| To learn how to dance
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| At the Teahouse on the Tracks
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| On Sunday morning
|
| You’re back at the wheel
|
| You’re feelng calm and crisp and strong
|
| If you’ve got eyes
|
| To rhythmatize
|
| Bring your flat hat and your ax
|
| 'Cause tonight at ten
|
| We’ll be workin' again
|
| At the Teahouse on the Tracks
|
| If it feels right
|
| Just drive for the light
|
| That’s the groovessential facts
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| Someday we’ll all meet at the end of the street
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| At the Teahouse on the Tracks |