| «Oh hello there» you coughed and smiled
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| Your hair messed up enough, a little wild
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| You said, «I'm sorry but it’s all a waste
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| Not a whole meal just a little taste»
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| Now you’ve nothing left to fight and gain
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| Another line another carved link of your name
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| On the golden ball and chain
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| L.A. it calls and London grooms the star
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| Get on the phone to find out who you are
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| But happiness was a dying trend
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| You say you saw that train around the bend
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| That was carrying its weight in pain
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| The engine straining on the full weight of your name
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| And the golden ball and chain
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| You saw it then, you saw the sign
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| A drowning sailor in a jug of wine
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| First it was her, but now it’s you
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| No psychoanalyst is there to tell you what to do
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| So now you whimper like a helpless child
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| You broke when they quit saying you were wild
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| But your tears they are like grass in sand
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| They speak to no one, they give no command
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| No there’s nothing left to cleanse the stain
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| Another line another carved link of your name
|
| On the golden ball and chain |