| So full of hope that he can’t sit still
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| Even in the presence of strangers
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| He’s expecting his favourite guest
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| The boy with easy virtues
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| But when the boy arrives
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| He’s got a black eye
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| From the lads who plague us outside
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| He laughs and calls for the world to die
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| Then hugs and kisses it better
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| Tell him why do you go to extremes
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| And how it must show
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| He’s half-full of courage and he
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| Stumbles to work
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| Where they bitch about their babies
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| They ask him where he got his bruises
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| He mumbles excuses, he lies and lies
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| He cannot allow them to finish him off
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| Over-heated, overwrought
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| He refuses to die like a saint
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| Half-believed and always deceived
|
| Tell him why do you go to extremes
|
| And how it must show
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| Giving us grief for centuries now
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| Can’t you ever rest?
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| Beaten, insulted, skewered and branded
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| Isn’t waking enough?
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| You’re breathing this fear just once a year
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| We suffocate every day
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| Hey… you’re breathing this fear just once a year
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| We suffocate every day! |