| I knew no vices and I knew no sin
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| I knew the words, but they didn’t sink in
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| Stayed out those tunnels that pull people down
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| There’s more of those tunnels in your home town
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| Fell far from grace, so far I couldn’t see
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| And oh, underground, I wasn’t that far from the tree
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| We’re all digging if you wanna know
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| Fixing, digging far too slow
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| Far too slow
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| We dug for money, we shoveled four tons
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| And the end wasn’t funny, though we’d all had fun
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| Limping and broken, the tunnel fell in
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| I’ve been limping from tunnels since my original sin
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| Birthright’s a trouble, my father dug too
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| He got where he was going at the age of sixty-two
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| We’re all digging if you wanna know
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| Fixing, digging far too slow
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| Far too slow
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| A new pair of boots and a chisel in your name
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| Says that we could be in the same hole attracting the same blame
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| If I knew the way to the ornamental tree
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| I would tell you, we’d be jailbirds, I’d be winking twice for free
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| Don’t call on your brother, odds are he’s here and all
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| Being gentle with the people who were knock-kneed from the fall
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| We’re all digging if you wanna know
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| Fixing, digging far too slow
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| Far too slow
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| We’re all digging if you wanna know
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| Fixing, digging far too slow
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| Far too slow |