| I’ve seen a lot of sights and traveled many miles
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| Shook a thousand hands and seen my share of smiles
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| I’ve caused some great concern and told one too many lies
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| And now I see the world through these sad, old, jaded eyes
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| So what if I threw a party and all my friends were there?
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| Acquaintances, relatives, the girls who never cared
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| You’ll have a host of rowdy hooligans in a big line out the door
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| Side by side with sister barbara, Chief Wells and Bobby Orr
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| I’d invite the Flannigans
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| Replace the window you smashed out
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| I’d apologize to sluggo for pissing on his couch
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| I’ll see mrs. |
| mcauliffe and so many others soon
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| Then I’ll say I’m sorry for what I did sleepwalking in her room
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| So what if I threw a party and invited Mayor Menino?
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| He’d tell you to get a permit
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| Well this time tom I don’t think so
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| It’s a neighborhood reunion
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| But now we’d get along
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| Van Morrison would be there and he’d sang me one last song
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| With a backup band of bass players to keep us up all night
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| Three handsome four string troubadours and Newton’s old Fat Mike
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| I’ll be in the can having a smoke with Garv and Johnny Fitz
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| But there’s a backup in the bathroom cause the badger’s got the shits
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| You may bury me with an enemy in mount calvary
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| You can stack me on a pyre and soak me down with whiskey
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| Roast me to a blackened crisp and throw me in a pile
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| I could really give a shit — I’m going out in style
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| You can take my urn to fenway spread my ashes all about
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| Or you can bring me down to wolly beachand dump the sucker out
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| Burn me to a rotten crisp and toast me for a while
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| I could really give a shit — I’m going out in style
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| Make me up dress me up, feed me a big old shot
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| Of embalming fluid highballs so i don’t start to rot
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| Now take me to Mcgreevy’s, i wanna buy one final round
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| What cheap prick would peel an orange in his pocket
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| Then hurry up and suck 'em down
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| If there’s a god the girls you loved will all come walking through the door
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| Maybe they’ll feel bad for me and this stiff will finally score
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| You’ve got the bed already
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| And nerve and courage too
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| Cause i’ve been slugging from a stash of desi queally’s 1980s bathtub brew |