| I saw him down in a dump
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| Hurlin' armloads of junk
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| Into a pickup bound for the yard
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| He was skittish and strange
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| Like a wild dog with mange
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| And there was was blood where his veins ran hard
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| Wadin' deep through the grime
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| He found a long copper line
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| And he jumped up and leaped to the ground
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| And you’d thought he’d struck gold
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| The way he kicked and he rolled
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| And like a bandit he tore outta town
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| Oh, now
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| He’s out on the prowl
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| You’d better get up and go back inside
|
| 'Cause he’s loose on the land
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| Gettin' all that he can
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| And there won’t be nowhere to hide
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| Yeah, he’s crawling his way
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| To that fix for the day
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| You won’t stop him, he’s bent to be fed
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| He’s the low heathen kind
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| With a shit-mingled mind
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| The desperate fuckin' meth head
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| There was a girl, tall and thin
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| With scabbed yellow skin
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| Outside a rest stop I won’t soon forget
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| She was digging at a rash
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| Trying to deal for some cash
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| Saying, «Baby, I’m clean and I’m wet»
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| I just kept pacing by
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| Swattin' through the flies
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| And her stench, rancid and stout
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| While she stood there cryin' «Please!»
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| With her fist between her knees
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| And the sores drainin' 'round her mouth
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| Oh, now
|
| She’s out on the prowl
|
| You’d better get up and go back inside
|
| 'Cause she’s loose on the land
|
| Gettin' all that she can
|
| And there won’t be nowhere to hide
|
| Yeah, she’ll bum and she’ll beg
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| And she’ll gnaw at your leg
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| You can’t kill her, she’s already dead
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| She’s the empty-eyed soul
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| The zombie-like fool
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| The fiendin' fuckin' meth head
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| It’ll be dark pretty soon
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| They love to lurk by the moon
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| So I’m out back shovelin' the dirt
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| I’m gonna dig me a hole
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| As deep as I can go
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| And when they fall I’m gonna cover 'em up
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| Oh, now
|
| They’re out on the prowl
|
| You’d better get up and go back inside
|
| 'Cause they’re sweeping the land
|
| Gettin' all that they can
|
| And there won’t be nowhere to hide
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| They’ve got the taste on their tongues
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| Their fates have been hung
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| It’s a fever that’s already spread
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| From out far and wide
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| They’re the fit-to-be-tied
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| The worthless fuckin' meth heads |