| Little Miss Tragedy is so misunderstood
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| She can hear you sniff a whip of a bad drugs a hundred yards away
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| And if she gets, you cornered she won’t be satisfied, no she won’t
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| And everything around her just seems to fly apart
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| But it has nobody to blame, nobody but yourself of being pulled in again
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| Into a slow drain, a slow drain
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| Mr. West Coast dealer he wants a front for you, yes I do, yes I do
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| And being so experienced and all, he knows just what to do
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| He says: 'You must be tired of the street, my friend, here’s a place for you
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| to rest'
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| And the price is never mentioned utill he gets your best
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| Always stop listening, nobody to blame
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| Nobody but yourself of being pulled in again
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| Into a slow drain, a slow drain
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| So you’re new in town, you wanna meet some fans
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| They’re all fresh hookers warming or pressing you in a doing thing
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| And if they get you cornered, they’d be coming 'round again and that’s for shure
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| And everything they touch just seems to waste away
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| Always stop listening, nobody to blame
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| Nobody but yourself of being pushed in again
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| Into a slow drain, a slow drain
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| Slow drain, slow drain
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| Slow drain, slow drain
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| Hang you 'till you dry |