| Since I haven’t talked to you, I
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| Dream about your baby blues and
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| Wonder why you stopped getting high
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| Even though we were just friends
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| I think of us as bookends
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| And I’m gonna love you 'til I die
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| And you think you’re going to Heaven
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| And that I am going to Hell
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| And that I’m gonna keep on dancing
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| 'Til I hear that ringing bell
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| Heads gonna roll, baby
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| Everybody’s gotta pay that toll and maybe
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| After all is said and done, we’ll all be skulls
|
| Heads gonna roll
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| Took a little trip up North
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| In a borrowed convertible red Porsche
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| With a narcoleptic poet from Duluth
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| And we disagreed about everything
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| From Elliott Smith to Grenadine
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| He fell asleep and I put up the roof
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| And he took me to a graveyard
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| I thought he’d kill me there
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| And he kissed me on the corner
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| While the nuns of Harlem stared
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| Oh, heads gonna roll, baby
|
| Everybody’s gotta pay that toll and maybe
|
| After all is said and done, we’ll all be skulls
|
| Heads gonna roll
|
| Smoking Marlboro cigarettes
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| Almost makes me forget about
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| Riding on a private jet with you
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| I hope the sycophants in Marrakesh
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| Make you feel your very best
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| Anonymity must make you blue
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| And you think I’m going to Heaven
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| And that you are going to Hell
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| With your back to the medina
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| As if you were in jail
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| Oh, heads gonna roll, baby
|
| Everybody’s gotta pay that toll and maybe
|
| After all is said and done, we’ll all be skulls
|
| Heads gonna roll
|
| Heads gonna roll, ladies
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| We’re gonna drink until they close and maybe
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| A little bit of hooking up is good for the soul
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| Heads gonna roll |