| The night’s smoking like you’ll never turn in
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| Thus was born another deadbeat boyfriend
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| Living, breathing scum
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| Afloat on insufficient funds
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| It’s a heavy moon and you’re riding for it
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| But you ain’t nothing 'til the sun adores ya
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| So give the folks what they need
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| And you can make the checks out to me
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| Between you and me it just may be
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| A sick company
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| Everybody’s chasing that goose who’s slingin'
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| Those chart-topping golden yolks
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| A grand buffet of FM waves
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| And you can stuff yourself until you choke
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| Can’t you hear them comin' for ya?
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| Those deadbeat hits are gonna floor ya
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| I want to drink from the most epic chorus
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| Wearing suits custom tailored for us
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| Drinking top-shelf for free
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| Throw off those grips of reality
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| So don’t worry if that moon goes unheard
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| Now you’ll be hangin' it on every record
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| How could it be wrong?
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| If the whole world’s singing along?
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| Between you and me it just may be
|
| A sick company
|
| Everybody’s chasing that goose who’s slingin'
|
| Those chart-topping golden yolks
|
| A grand buffet of FM waves
|
| And you can stuff yourself until you choke
|
| We’re gonna stuff ourselves until I choke
|
| Can’t you hear them comin' for ya?
|
| Those deadbeat hits are gonna floor ya |