| Well, they blew up the chicken man in philly last night
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| Now, they blew up his house, too
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| Down on the boardwalk they’re gettin ready for a fight
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| Gonna see what them racket boys can do Now, there’s trouble bustin in from outta state
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| And the d.a. |
| can’t get no relief
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| Gonna be a rumble out on the promenade
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| And the gamblin commissions hangin on by the skin of his teeth
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| Well now, evrything dies, baby, that’s a fact
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| But maybe evrything that dies someday comes back
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| Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
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| And meet me tonight in atlantic city
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| Well, I got a job and tried to put my money away
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| But I got debts that no honest man can pay
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| So I drew what I had from the central trust
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| And I bought us two tickets on that coast city bus
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| Now, baby, evrything dies, baby, that’s a fact
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| But maybe evrything that dies someday comes back
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| Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
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| And meet me tonight in atlantic city
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| Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold
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| But with you forever I’ll stay
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| Were goin out where the sands turnin to gold
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| Put on your stockins baby, 'cause the nights getting cold
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| And maybe evrything dies, baby, that’s a fact
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| But maybe evrything that dies someday comes back |