| Ever had your numbers called
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| Ever ran away, ever loved and lost it all
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| Don’t you wanna say
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| And if you had, and if you had
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| The chance to run it all like you know it’s meant
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| Would you roll a dice or sprint until the end
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| Pickled and soured, bruised and dry
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| That’s the local way
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| Strange old flag, flying high
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| Don’t know what to say
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| Just tip your head, just tip your head
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| And let us know your heart, beats like the rest
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| And we will roll around, and do our best
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| Painted girl, upon the wall
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| Covered carefully in Paraguay and Panama
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| You were the hourglass beauty queen
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| Just flick your hair, just flick your hair
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| And move your lips around, in the shape of words
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| That you knew before all of this |