| You never woke up beside a stranger
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| But you never spent the night alone
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| In your jacket is a flask of Southern Comfort
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| In your pocket you got a comb,
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| I know you — I know you.
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| You’ve been pushed right to the limit
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| Lived on a lonesome road
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| Chopped up an old pine dresser
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| To heat the house once in the cold,
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| I know you — I know you.
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| D.H. Lawrence would be your favorite poet
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| If you thought poetry was cool
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| You have too much pride to be a thief
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| And just enough gut to be a fool,
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| Baby I know you, I know you.
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| I know where you go when you want to be alone
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| I know just how hard you work
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| And how much money you bring home
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| You love the sound of church bells
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| But you hate sitting in the pew,
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| Baby, I know you.
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| I know the sound of your thunder
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| And I know the smell of your rain
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| I know every time you walk out that door
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| You might stumble back in it again,
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| I know you — I know you.
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| I know that you feel bad
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| For every bad thing that you do You got a scar on your right cheek
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| And the fear of God embedded in you
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| Your mother had a wooden spoon
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| And a shamrock tattoo,
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| Yes I do baby blue, I know you.
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| Well, no other woman’s gonna feel beneath
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| The skin that you are in No other woman’s gonna read your mind
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| Or be sorry for your sins,
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| I know you — I know you.
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| I know what you look like just before you cry
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| I know how to make you sick
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| And I know how to make you die
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| The only thing I could never do Is let you say goodbye,
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| Cause I know you — I know you.
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| You never woke up beside a stranger
|
| But you never spent the night alone
|
| In your jacket is a flask of Southern Comfort
|
| In your pocket you got a comb… |