| We sat on the boat rocks
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| With plum wine and we’d watch
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| The fog roll in, swallow the bridge on the bay
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| I thought I could live here
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| But I’m still in high-gear
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| And sweating and freezing three-thousand away
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| O Pennsyltucky, your Three Mile Islands
|
| The coal fires buckle the Miners' highway
|
| I’d love just to leave you but its great to see you
|
| And Old Filthadelph, Hostile city, PA
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| Where we all come from
|
| Most died of the Black Lung
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| Another, a browbeater, boxer, and saint
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| When he finally got caught
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| The cops made a few calls
|
| They opened his cell, never fought him again
|
| O Pennsyltucky, your Three Mile Islands
|
| The coal fires buckle the Miners' highway
|
| I’d love just to leave you but its great to see you
|
| And Old Filthadelph, Hostile city, PA
|
| And old Filthadelph Hostile City, PA
|
| Wake me when steel city’s
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| Road work signs shine in my face
|
| (whoo!)
|
| Now I’m safe
|
| Was that a peepshow
|
| With drive-thru windows?
|
| The gun show’s got carousels and funnel cakes
|
| It says «Church» in neon
|
| And asks me what’s beyond
|
| If I had to guess, I’d say more of the same
|
| O Pennsyltucky, your Three Mile Islands
|
| The coal fires buckle the Miners' highway
|
| I’d love just to leave you but its great to see you
|
| And Old Filthadelph, Hostile city, PA
|
| O Pennsyltucky!
|
| How your coal fires rumble!
|
| I’d love just to leave you
|
| But its great to see you
|
| And old filthadelph, hostile city, PA |