| Welcome home
|
| If home it is and well you come
|
| We’ve seen the smoke and smelled the fumes
|
| You went for broke
|
| Then under over a couple bucks
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| Threw down the yoke and put up your dukes
|
| May a blow land
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| Where you’ll feel it
|
| May your fire spread
|
| Through the coal-sewn fields
|
| Fare thee well
|
| In a welfare line or thy father’s will
|
| Don’t kill us and we’ll go your bail
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| You hit and held
|
| And folded, «Enthralled isn’t thrilled»
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| You said, «grow up,» and away you sailed
|
| May the blow land
|
| Where he’ll see it
|
| May your fear spread
|
| Through the tear-stained shores
|
| Saying, «I never knew you»
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| Welcome home
|
| If home it is and well you come
|
| Cause fear and fire can’t consume
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| Condemn, condone
|
| Or dismiss what we haven’t done
|
| And he’s out of salt
|
| Go dress our wounds
|
| Lay a flare down
|
| By your dull pain
|
| May he show up
|
| Or may you move on
|
| He will show up
|
| Or you will move on |