| A streetlight, the old fashioned kind
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| Puts you in a dirt yard behind a chain link fence
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| Bright watery eyes and ivory skin
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| She is the devil and he is the devil’s friend
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| You can dance and play
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| These games all evening
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| You’ll be dead by morning
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| So nothing’ll matter then
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| The headlights of a flatbed pick up truck puts you in the past
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| You’re on a dirt road behind the house
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| Why did he go blind not see the stars at night
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| Shine down on a family, poison, seed it, fertilize
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| You can dance and play
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| These games all evening
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| You’ll be dead by morning
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| So nothing’ll matter then
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| She said, «If it’s my time to pass, I’m not afraid
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| I won’t scream or fight
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| I just can’t do it myself so please go get a gun or knife
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| And help me do this right»
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| She ran out in front of a truck
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| So it would look much more like an accident
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| Courage comes to it
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| It’s been disabled
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| Crippled, and cramped
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| Potential is sad
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| So go find out what comes after the end |