| There’s only one light on in the house
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| And that’s the light up in the hall
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| And it’s shining on the back of my head
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| And I’m concentrating hard
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| On the cigarette to the ashtray
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| From the ashtray back to my lips
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| So I lean up from my easy chair
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| I rub my three-day beard and give that thousand-yard stare
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| As I recall all the time and the money we spent
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| Before I became irrelevant
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| So the strawdog threw rocksalt
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| And the precious girl took a bow and walked
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| As I ran my finger over the screen door
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| Yeah every kiss has reeked of betrayal
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| Since my heroine jumped the guard rail
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| And decided who she wanted to be once more
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| Now every night I’m paralysed
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| By the fear of rope burns and morning light
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| And the smell of wet cement
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| Since I became irrelevant
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| Now memory is just a flash flood
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| A thick and black sticky mud
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| And heartache it’s like a breaking bone
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| It was always twelve hours on a missionary line
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| I think i would’ve spared some time
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| But I didn’t I never went home
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| Now it occurs to me like blinds undrawn
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| Or a bullet from a shotgun
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| That she knew long ago what it meant
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| To feel irrelevant
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| Now I’m always smiling, crying and hiding my intent
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| Since I became irrelevant |