| Do you wanna wind up in a graveyard?
|
| Like a number on a scorecard
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| They’re gonna wrap you up in corn silk
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| They’re gonna cry like you were spilled milk
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| You’d better take another Quaalude
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| And get yourself corkscrewed
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| I understand that you got cold feet
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| But why’d you have to take 'em down a side street?
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| I must be dumber than a spit curl
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| 'Cause I got hung up on a showgirl
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| Now I look like I’m a scarecrow
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| I might as well go on a talk show
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| And this ain’t home anymore
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| It’s just four walls and a floor
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| Home is where you get the goods for free
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| This is just the house that used to be
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| Yeah the house that used to be
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| You’re gonna wind up in a graveyard
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| Like another girl who co-starred
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| They’re gonna wrap you up in corn silk
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| They’re gonna cry like you were spilled milk
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| And in the far off wail of freight trains
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| And in the lonely howl of Great Danes
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| I hear the girl I lost forever
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| I hear the girl I lost forever |