| Mary Ann was a waitress at the circus
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| And Dan was a writer for the Delaware Locale Observer
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| Just twenty-one and just two months out of the service
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| Missing half an eyelid so he had to wear a patch
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| Mary Ann introduced herself to Dan
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| She said, «do you like the menu
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| Or do you need me to read it to you?»
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| Halfway angry, half turned on, and half confused
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| Well he took her by the arm
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| And went out back to make a match
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| And he said
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| So long to my former life
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| To a worried life, so long
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| So long to a harder life
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| To a troubled life, so long
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| Lyin' there under the soft glow of the sunrise
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| The moon was still awake, and all the generators lowly humming
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| She picked a flower and fastened it onto his bad eye
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| She said, «Come on let’s get married
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| I think we might get along»
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| And she said
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| So long to my former life
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| To a selfish life, so long
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| So long to a bitter life
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| To a troubled life, so long
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| Well, Dan, he was no poet
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| Couldn’t dance, he never slept
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| He had nightmares every night
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| Of rain and fire on those bloody beaches
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| Just then the dew dropped
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| From the flower, and he wept
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| «Mary Ann, you are a melody
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| I think I wrote a song
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| It goes like»
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| So long to my worried life
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| To a lonesome life, so long
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| So long to a wandering life
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| To a wounded life, so long
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| And we all said
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| So long to those memories
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| To everything we can’t let go, so long
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| So long to our former selves
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| To our selfish selves, so long
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| To our selfish selves, so long
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| To our selfish selves, so long |