| When the taxis gather in mock solemnity.
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| Funeral hearses court the death of virginity,
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| Was it paradise lost or paradise found?
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| Did we gain respect or were we holding ground?
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| You had found true love, or so you believed
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| And the wideboys tattooed your hearts upon their sleeves.
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| So when you think its time to go,
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| When you think its time to go,
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| Dont be surprised, the heroes never show.
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| And the patter merchants selling false impressions,
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| Tipping eyes at the waitress with american expressions,
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| Tie angels to the bar with sweet martinis and their charms
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| Theyre lying on every word and every arm
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| Theyre turning down their noses to the best lines
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| And the cheap wines.
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| And the wideboys,
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| They wear their lovebites for their crimes.
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| So when you think its time to go,
|
| When you think its time to go,
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| Dont be surprised, the heroes never show. |