| Will there be any bartenders up there in heaven?
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| Will the pubs never close? |
| Will the glass never drain?
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| No more DTs and no shakes and no horrors
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| The very next morning, you feel right as rain
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| 'Cause God loves a drunk, lowest of men
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| Like the dogs in the street and the pigs in the pen
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| But a drunk’s only trying to get free of his body
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| And soar like an eagle high up there in heaven
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| His shouts and his curses they are just hymns and praises
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| To kick-start his mind now and then
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| O God loves a drunk, come raise up your glasses, amen
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| Does God really care for your life in the suburbs?
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| Your dull little life full of dull little things
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| And bring up the babies to be just like daddy
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| And maybe I’ll be there when he gives out the wings
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| But God loves a drunk, although he’s a fool
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| Oh he wets in his pants and he falls off his stool
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| And he can’t hear the insults, and whispers go by him
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| As he leans in the doorway and he sings sally racket
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| He can’t feel the cold rain beat down on his body
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| And soak through his clothes to the skin
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| O God loves a drunk, come raise up your glasses, amen
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| Will there be any pen-pushers up there in heaven?
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| Does crawling and wage-slaving win you God’s love?
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| I pity you worms with your semis and pensions
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| If you think that’ll get you to the kingdom above
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| Oh God loves a drunk, although he’s a clown
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| Oh you can’t help but laugh as he gags and falls down
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| But he don’t give a curse for what people think of him
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| He screams at his demons alone in the darkness
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| He’s staying alive for just one more pint bottle
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| Won’t you throw him a few pennies, friend?
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| Ah God loves a drunk, for ever and ever, amen |