| Mrs. Carver says she’s sorry
|
| She knows enough to worry
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| But what does she know about crime?
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| Believes the town is sinking
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| The price of forward thinking
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| You stay up all night half the time
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| Racking your mind
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| Alone in the night
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| While all your neighbors sleep tight
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| Years ago she lost her daughter
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| Off to a sacred order
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| Where they got stoned and worked the earth
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| Clears up her head with bourbon
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| Cause beer is so suburban
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| And declasse for what it’s worth
|
| She drinks it down down down
|
| For all the old old days
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| She’s thinking of it now
|
| It’s nice to get away
|
| But what a fine day for a parade
|
| She stays up mending curtains
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| Until her fingers hurt, and
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| You can get so bored of it all
|
| No one can say for certain
|
| She’ll never safely know when
|
| An asteroid will kill us all
|
| She drinks it down down down
|
| For all the old old days
|
| She’s thinking of it now
|
| It’s nice to get away
|
| But what a fine day for a parade |