| Loose old squaw in the scant morning light
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| Says «you wring a man’s neck in the alley out of sight»
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| You can wring wring, you can skin a swain for some advice
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| You’ll get a head full of secrets, you might get ahead in life
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| Recalling innocent games with a youthful glow
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| It’s all come to pass you by you know
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| Bishop to queen and queen to Knight
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| Who’s to blame you suspected Jesus Christ
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| Well he’s everyone’s favorite scapegoat
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| We’ll all be alone when we sing our final note
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| She says in this house the milk gets spilled
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| And every last one of us will get their fill
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| The gills is full the gills is full she screams at the sea
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| And the stubborn bull Says look at me
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| You can give 'em the axe or give ‘em the cane
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| But it won’t stop the rain it won’t stop the rain
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| Bishop to queen and queen to Knight
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| Who’s to blame you suspected Jesus Christ
|
| Well he’s everyone’s favorite scapegoat
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| We’ll all be alone when we write our final note
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| The rains they came and they never left, the mail piles up it won’t be sent
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| The Chaplin he drags his knuckles now scraping so low to the ground
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| Bonds and beads and rosemary — Bring me back to Easter day
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| You can Give ‘em the axe or give ‘em the cane
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| But it won’t stop the rain it won’t stop the rains
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| Bishop to queen and queen to Knight
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| Who’s to blame you suspected Jesus Christ
|
| Well he’s everyone’s favorite scapegoat
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| We’ll all be alone when we sing our final note |