| Cell block five, how I hate bromide
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| With your coffee in the morning makes you so sterile
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| The corner gang never made a man of me, boy, no
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| You know the walls are tall and the inmates scheme
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| There’s no one here that’s more than 17
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| Bet your life there’s a riot tonight in the mess hall, listen
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| A letter from your home town makes you sad
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| You read it when the warden’s had a second laugh
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| He said, «Sentimental rubbish ain’t got no place in here, boy»
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| See the years roll on by
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| Such a senseless waste of time
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| What a way to reform
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| Call out your number
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| Who’s a nonconformer?
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| Not me baby, oh yeah
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| Shakey brown didn’t hang around
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| When a Molotow didn’t do its stuff
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| You went back in there and said it with a sawed-off shotgun
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| You know poker Sam couldn’t lose a hand
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| If he did you were hit by a downtown tram
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| Or crushed in the path of a moving elevator, elevator
|
| See the years roll on by
|
| Such a senseless waste of time
|
| What a way to reform
|
| Call out your number
|
| Who’s a nonconformer
|
| Not me baby, oh
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| When I get out, I’ll get straight
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| If this old world gives me half a break
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| But, if you see me in the corner with a chip on my shoulder
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| Don’t blame me, don’t blame me, baby, no, no
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| Hit me, woo
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| Ow, ow, ow
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| Got to make a break for the county line |