| I heard that your Orpheus he done left town
|
| Snuck out the back way while you slept face down
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| Bound for the underworld he rolled down his wool sleeves
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| And like a serpent coiled about the wet leaves
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| Tennessee waltzing a dance of disease
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| Can’t you see
|
| Pick up your shears Delilah right there
|
| Leave all your cares to fall like dead hair
|
| Outside a carriage waits to take you home
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| Its tricky handbrake will not hold out for long
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| Do hop inside for your map it has been drawn
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| Can’t you see
|
| What leads you
|
| What leads you
|
| What leads you
|
| What leads
|
| Pickin' the mandrake I would use for tea
|
| I heard the water spirits calling me
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| And faintly a peacock cried behind the tulles
|
| Can’t you see
|
| That when you feel it tickle your brain
|
| Filling your skull’s bowl with a butane
|
| Maybe the genie wants back in the lamp
|
| He’s run out of wishes and his clothes are all damp
|
| Back to the bottle though he knows just how cramped
|
| That can be
|
| What leads you
|
| What leads you
|
| What leads you
|
| What leads you
|
| What is it now now
|
| What is it
|
| What is it
|
| What is it now
|
| What is it now now
|
| What leads
|
| Well what leads you
|
| What leads you now now now
|
| Down down down
|
| Down down down down down
|
| What leads you |