| I was once a broken man
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| I was once a broken fool
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| Lost my wife and children
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| To one basic broken rule
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| Now I live my life in silence
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| Though I’m not quite in a shell
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| I drink and listen to that song
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| A whiter shade of pale
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| Oh, a whiter shade of pale
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| I was a good shade tree mechanic
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| So I sent myself to school
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| They smoothed out my rough edges
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| In my hands they put new tools
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| The instructor once he told me
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| I could work on any line
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| I could tune and make a diesel sing
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| Just like Patsy Cline
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| Oh, just like Patsy Cline
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| Well, I met my wife to be
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| Through my mother’s best friend son
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| She’d been a barroom singer
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| She was as good as anyone
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| But I asked her to stop singing
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| And the girl she did not flinch
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| Next day she went and bought that man
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| A brand new crescent wrench
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| Oh, a brand new crescent wrench
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| Well, we had three fine children
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| As eight years went on by
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| I learned to supervise a line
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| My knuckles stayed bone dry
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| But after supper I kept hearing her
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| By the kitchen radio
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| Singing sweet but desperate harmony
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| A little bit too low
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| Oh, a little bit too low
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| She left three months later
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| I’d just come home for lunch
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| The note said easy come hard go
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| But still love you much
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| She said I don’t know if I’ll be back
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| Or if you’ll want me if I come
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| But if and when that happens, dear
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| You better let my sweet dream run
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| Oh, let my sweet dream run
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| I was a good shade tree mechanic
|
| So I sent myself to school
|
| They smoothed out my rough edges
|
| In my hands they put new tools
|
| The instructor once he told me
|
| I could work on any line
|
| But now a diesel ain’t the only thing
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| Can sing like Patsy Cline
|
| Oh, can sing like Patsy Cline
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| I was once a broken man
|
| I was once a broken fool
|
| Lost my wife and children
|
| To one basic broken rule
|
| Now I live my life in silence
|
| Though I’m not quite in a shell
|
| I drink and listen to that song
|
| A whiter shade of pale
|
| Oh, a whiter shade of pale |