| I’ve been gone a long time
|
| Lost in the seven seas
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| Sail on, don’t you come back
|
| Until you learn the birds and the bees
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| Who will you find waiting for you
|
| Squeeze blood in the wine
|
| Left to call my preacher
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| And my very lovely wife
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| I said, hey now, knocked down, why’d you do it
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| Roll me like a hurricane
|
| All is a bust and I’m numb, like novocaine
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| Who done it, what’s up, you said
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| Sell me out why don’t you boy
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| I’m alone, severely broken
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| I’m a dislocated boy
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| I have thought to rise my dictions
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| And I’ve suffocated my pride
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| Before you and I embarked on
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| One hell of a ride
|
| Boy, I’ve had these blues
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| Since I been six years old
|
| But tell me don’t you worry
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| About my very heavy load
|
| And I said, knock down, drag out, bar fight
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| Knuckles on the floor. |
| and there’s shattered glass
|
| And one hell of a scar
|
| Broke down and hungry, you said so
|
| Sell me out, why don’t you boy
|
| I’m alone, severely broken
|
| I’m a dislocated boy
|
| All I need is my old guitar
|
| And I’ll play you the best damn blues
|
| Heavy affections, and I hate to lose
|
| Thirty-five years ago
|
| I was born on Robert Johnson’s
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| It’s all been for you baby
|
| I’m gonna make it back someday
|
| I said, hey now, knocked down, why’d you do it
|
| Roll me like a hurricane
|
| All is a bust and I’m numb, like novocaine
|
| Who done it, what’s up, you said
|
| Sell me out why don’t you boy
|
| I’m alone, severely broken
|
| I’m a dislocated boy
|
| So tell me about your working class hero, baby
|
| Tell me 'bout your
|
| Mine was born in Mississippi, 'round 1923
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| Blue collar flannel shirts
|
| Was my Father’s way
|
| Worked in a factory
|
| 'Til his dying day
|
| And I said, knock down, drag out, bar fight
|
| Knuckles on the floor. |
| and there’s shattered glass
|
| And one hell of a scar
|
| Broke down and hungry, you said so
|
| Sell me out, why don’t you boy
|
| I’m alone, severely broken
|
| I’m a dislocated boy |