| You’ve been living on the jazz side of life
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| Carrying your pain in your back pocket and a sharp edge knife
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| And somebody told me there’s a man you’ve been seeing
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| But I know he ain’t your lover and I know he ain’t your friend
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| And I can tell by the way you look
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| You ain’t been treating yourself right girl, yeah you been whooped
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| And if I could I would come to your side
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| But I know you wouldn’t want me to, it would only hurt your pride
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| Why do you act like you don’t know me at all
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| Why do you, why do you turn your face to the wall
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| Girl don’t try to run away like that
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| I know about the pain and all of that jazz
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| You lean against the bar with that look on your face
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| The leather’s worn on your boots and your blouse is tattered lace
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| You pawn your guitar and you bus it again
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| Your Chevy’s broken down and you’re looking for a ride with him
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| You lie in your bed and stare at the plaster peeling and
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| Wonder where your spirit went and that wild abandoned feeling
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| Something you always knew about, something you almost forgot
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| Hidden in a place somewhere deep down in your heart
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| Why do you act like you don’t know me at all
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| Why do you, why do you turn your face to the wall
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| Girl don’t try to run away like that
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| I know about the pain and all of that jazz
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| I know about the pain and all of that jazz
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| I know all about it
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| I know all about it, girl
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| I know all about it
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| I know all about it, girl
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| I know all about it
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| I know all about it, girl
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| I know all about it
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| I know all about it |