| Dark like a Kennedy’s veil,
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| Shaky like them motorcycle lights,
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| Leading all them angels at hell,
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| I gave out my very last dime,
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| Laid out the bartenders all in a line,
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| We weren’t fighting, we just drank 'em out of time,
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| Down at Printer’s Alley,
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| So let the poets be poets and the cops just give us a ride,
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| We ain’t worried about your hands of time,
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| Just let it slide,
|
| And let it slide,
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| You know Elvis said only two things were certain Hookers and Coupe Devilles,
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| Messing with that old boy down at the pool hall surely get your young ass
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| killed,
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| I’m too tired for fighting,
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| I’d rather wear myself out with a smile,
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| We’ll stay up with some good bar stores,
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| Beat up time for a while,
|
| So let the poets be poets and the cops just give us a ride,
|
| We ain’t worried about your hands of time,
|
| Just let it slide,
|
| And let it slide,
|
| Oh you know it’s nights like these,
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| I get down on my knees,
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| And pray the Lord the sun won’t shine,
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| 'Till I’m done having my big time,
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| So let the poets be poets and the cops just give us a ride,
|
| We ain’t worried about your hands of time,
|
| Just let it slide,
|
| And let it slide. |