| I’m a rogue, saint and a scoundrel
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| I terminate at Bethnal Green
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| I’d shake hands with the devil
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| To get where I want to be
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| Because I feel my soul
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| Swell through my brain
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| And spit tears out my eyes
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| When I hit the refrain
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| And lately I just daydream
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| A social outcast in my tower
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| If only all men had the courage
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| They too could be cowards
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| They could feel their souls
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| Swell through their brains
|
| And spit tears out their eyes
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| Again and again
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| When they hit the refrain
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| But mother I’m not so academic
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| I’m not so academic but I love
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| I’m a rogue, saint and a scoundrel
|
| I spend my days on the echoing green
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| Come thunder frightening
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| Or dumb white lightning-flooded
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| Couldashouldawouldofbeens
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| Out of control
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| Out of sync
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| Everywhere but the bowl
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| Everywhere but the kitchen sink
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| Mother I’m not so academic
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| Mother I’m not so academic but I love |