| «Abel was able,» so Vivian said
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| Her shoulders flung forward
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| Her lips in a purse
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| She talks like the beauty that she never was
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| Of the fabulous wild nights that she never has
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| In a certain light he looked like Elvis
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| In a certain way he feels like Jesus
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| Everyone dreams of him just as they can
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| But he’s only the humble Delivery Man
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| Geraldine blushes and brushes away
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| The cigarette ashes that Vivian scatters
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| Stares out of the window at the things that she says
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| While gossip within her competes with the widow
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| Ever since he’s gone, she feels like crying all the time
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| She knows for sure Vivian is lying
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| Now she has a daughter to raise as she can
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| She just wouldn’t trust that Delivery Man
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| Ivy puts down the ghost story she’s reading
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| Looks up at that face on the wall
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| Thinking about how her father lay bleeding
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| Shot in the back 'cos orders were misleading
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| And how a flag and a medal don’t have any meaning
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| On the 5th of July as they tore down the fair
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| And he’d seen all the local girls who were worth kissing
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| With the smell of the gunpowder still in the air
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| They noticed that Abel and Ivy were missing
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| He said «Why can’t we be kind to me like you were meant to be?
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| When they let me out, I had a brand new identity |