| Cold was the wind on my frozen face
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| But I didn’t mind, cause I was long gone
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| Cold was the wind upon my brow
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| Below that, well, you don’t wanna know at all
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| Cold, was the wind (Yeah)
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| Christmas in Siberia with the little bitty case of the delirium tremens
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| For some reason, picture Roger Clemens
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| But Mike Schmidt’s more of the city I came with
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| Crossed my heart, hoped to die
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| Stick a needle in my, butter around your bread
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| Cold was the wind on my naked brow
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| Below it, well, you don’t wanna know at all
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| Cold, wind, blows
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| Cold wind blows on my naked brow
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| Sun sits down on the sacred cow
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| You better Goddamn miss me when I’m gone
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| 'Cause God’s gonna damn me up and down now
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| Wherever it is, they’re gonna give me the business
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| Whoever it is, gonna miss my girls
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| On the plane I’m drinkin red wine, 'cause like everybody else I’m afraid to die
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| Did I mention that I’m afraid of dying, think I heard my daughter crying
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| So I pick her on up, spin her around, live it on up, of what I found
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| Cold wind blow on my brow
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| Below it, well, you don’t wanna know at all
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| Cold, wind, blows |