| Mama, we all go to hell
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| Mama, we all go to hell
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| I’m writing this letter and wishing you well
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| Mama, we all go to hell
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| Oh well now, Mama, we’re all gonna die
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| Mama, we’re all gonna die
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| Stop asking me questions, I’d hate to see you cry
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| Mama, we’re all gonna die
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| And when we go, don’t blame us, yeah
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| We’ll let the fires just bathe us, yeah
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| You made us oh, so famous, we’ll never let you go
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| And when you go, don’t return to me, my love
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| Mama, we’re all full of lies
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| Mama, we’re meant for the flies
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| And right now, they’re building a coffin your size
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| Mama, we’re all full of lies
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| Well mother, what the war did to my legs and to my tongue
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| You should’ve raised a baby girl, I should’ve been a better son
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| If you could coddle the infection, they can amputate at once
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| You should’ve been, I could have been a better son
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| And when we go, don’t blame us, yeah
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| We’ll let the fires just bathe us, yeah
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| You made us oh, so famous
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| We’ll never let you go
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| She said, «You ain’t no son of mine
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| For what you’ve done, they’re gonna find
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| A place for you and just your mind your manners when you go
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| And when you go, don’t return to me, my love»
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| That’s right
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| Mama, we all go to hell
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| Mama, we all go to hell
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| It’s really quite pleasant, except for the smell
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| Mama, we all go to hell
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| Mama! |
| Mama! |
| Mama! |
| Oh!
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| Mama! |
| Mama! |
| Mama! |
| Ma…
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| And if you would call me a sweetheart
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| I’d maybe then sing you a song
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| But there’s shit that I’ve done with this fuck of a gun
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| You would cry out your eyes, all along
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| We’re damned, after all
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| Through fortune and flame, we fall
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| And if you can stay, then I’ll show you the way
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| To return from the ashes you call
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| We all carry on
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| When our brothers in arms are gone
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| So raise your glass high, for tomorrow, we die
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| And return from the ashes you call |