| It’s a tragedy,
|
| it’s a tragedy,
|
| it’s a tragedy,
|
| it’s a tragedy.
|
| He was only twenty five,
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| had an open heart and tender mind,
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| he sang through all the hymns he knew,
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| he was searching for a higher sign,
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| when his water was turned to wine,
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| all the darkness became light.
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| Babies and a patient wife,
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| they just wouldn’t have to keep him high,
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| so he gave them up just to fill his cup,
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| every sip would make him feel alive,
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| no bones in his body were dry.
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| It’s a tragedy,
|
| it’s a tragedy,
|
| it’s a tragedy,
|
| it’s a tragedy.
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| Now he’s finally come around,
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| he’s got wrinkles and a crooked friend,
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| he holds back tears thinking of the years,
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| that the bottle had a long time down,
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| so he’d sit have another round,
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| singing hallelujah 'till it drowns.
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| It’s a tragedy,
|
| it’s a tragedy,
|
| it’s a tragedy,
|
| it’s a tragedy. |