| Down in Corpus Christi always around midnight
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| You’ll find the devil limpin' along cause his shoes is too tight
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| His hair’s up in pigtails, his whiskers are in braids
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| He’s talking about the promises he said God forgot He made
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| Oh the way of the fallen is hard
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| The way of the fallen is hard
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| The way of the fallen is hard
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| The way of the fallen is hard
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| Well the devil’s drinking whiskey he asked me for a match
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| He lit up a Salem and said my friends call me scratch
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| You people act so high and mighty thinking your God’s pride and joy
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| You’re just assembled from boxcars and put together like tinker toys
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| Well the devil’s got a billy goat and he feeds him marmalade
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| He comes from the world of the born to the world of the made
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| His eyes is always bloodshot, he says he don’t give a damn
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| He’s mumbling that the world at large is just an elaborate scam
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| There’s tears in the devils eyes, I ask what’s the matter
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| He said «These damn religions are spreading like pancake batter»
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| Then he took off his shoes and said «Perhaps I should mention»
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| I prefer to die with a bottle of wine without the comfort of religion |