| I wrestled with an angel
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| Of darkness called Despair
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| He claimed that he was
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| The answer to my prayers
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| He tried to bring me round
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| To his general school of thought
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| He claimed if I chose
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| I could end all my woes
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| Forever in a single shot
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| Well he damn near won me over
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| But my trigger finger froze
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| Soon a battle of wits
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| Became a mortal exchange of blows
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| Right before the lights went out
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| He pressed his whiskers to my ear
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| Then he spat and he cursed
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| And he whispered these words
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| With a snarl and a snigger and a sneer
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| He said…
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| Give it up, son
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| You know you never can win
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| The world is a burning house
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| It’s always something
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| Get your gun, son
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| Kiss all your sorrows goodbye
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| Bang and you’ll be flyin'
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| Like a bird up in the sky
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| Came a-tapping on my shoulder
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| It was an angel of light called Hope
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| She said…
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| «Hey little Boy Blue
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| Please let an old friend throw you a rope»
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| Sure it’s dark, cold and windy
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| And the heavens ain’t no great shakes
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| But weather wise
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| You just might be surprised
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| What a difference a day makes
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| She said…
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| Don’t give up, son
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| It’s true, you can’t always win
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| The world is a burning house
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| It’s always something
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| (There's always a-something)
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| Hide your gun, son
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| One to the head won’t do you right
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| Come mornin' I bet you’ll see things
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| In a whole different light
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| She said…
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| A whole different light |