| He had a life full of pain, lived a life full of hope
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| Stayed in bars drinking jars of Irish whiskey on the run
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| In a world full of tears, in a world of mistrust
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| He just lived on borrowed time and wasted all these precious years
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| Another day of agony, another night in hell
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| He hit the bottom of the barrel, saced by the bell
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| They grabbed him, they punched him, they slapped him in the face
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| He stumbled, he tumbled, he felt like a disgrace
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| A dirty shirt, a lousy cap, oh, what an ugly sight
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| No money in his pockets, all stolen in a fight
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| His memory lapsed on his way to Portobello Lane
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| He stuttered, he uttered, he crawled through the rain
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| A bloody nose, blind in one eye, with demons in his head
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| Beggars can’t be chosen, he’s completely in the red
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| He drew a blank, went down the drain, was down in the dumps
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| The cards were stocked against him, lost all his bloody trumps
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| …such a shame!
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| …down the drain!
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| …what a game!
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| …a bloody game! |