| An inspirational tirade against me
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| How to explain my life?
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| Boys to the left of me
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| Girls to the right of me
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| Neither husband nor wife
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| Though the days are filled with pain
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| There is no one who’ll explain
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| Why I’m coming under friendly fire
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| Shot in the fatal cause of rock 'n' roll
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| But there’s nothing, really nothing, to say
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| Why I endure under force majeure
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| Slander without shame or tact
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| I who studied make-up, mime and Buddha
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| Who taught two generations to react
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| About me the critics lied
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| I ignored them and survived
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| In spite of coming under friendly fire
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| Shot in the fatal cause of of rock 'n' roll
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| I have nothing, really nothing, to deny
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| When I look back my eyes are filled with tears
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| Danger to mascara, applause to my peers
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| When fame sustained me and arenas acclaimed me
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| I floated through life in a cloud
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| Of love and insanity and pagan profanity
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| Before a worshipping crowd
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| Now my status is ill-defined
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| As an icon I’m inclined
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| To be coming under friendly fire
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| Shot in the fatal cause of rock 'n' roll
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| But whatever dull or clever points they’ve scored
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| I have never, oh no never, been ignored |