| Well they packed up their violin cases? | 
| ?
 | 
| Hopped in a big black studebaker, they were acting pretty scary
 | 
| No one talked as they synchronized their watches
 | 
| And they drove past a train station
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| The train rolled out with a passenger car
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| Filled with retired millionaires and movie stars
 | 
| ?? | 
| coats
 | 
| ?? | 
| and that would be all she wrote
 | 
| And the gangsters, cowboys, gypsies, and freewheelers
 | 
| Sold out their trades to become drug dealers
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| There aint no money in doing things straight
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| Your community thanks you, business is good, and nice guys dont get paid
 | 
| Outside the train window fast as he could ride
 | 
| Was a kid on a horse with a head full of lies
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| And the tears of excitement couldnt put out the fire in his eyes
 | 
| For the house he was riding to burglarize
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| All through the house they were dancing and singing
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| An extended family with fiddlers and magicians
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| A juggler and a chemist whod invent potion
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| To pacify all the killers and rapist
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| The chemist died in the burglary and they sold the prescription
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| For a case of cheap red wine to a traveling salesman
 | 
| In a three-wheeled jalopy; | 
| he bought and sold potions
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| To the city that looked over the ocean
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| And he sold the last drop, it was big with the rich kids
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| And soon the city would be crawling with addicts
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| And back rooms, dark allies, basements and attics
 | 
| (when?) a fly is trapped in a spiders web (but a bats got the spider?)
 | 
| And no one knows whats going on But youve gotta show up for yourself at the end of the day
 | 
| And nice guys dont get paid
 | 
| Nice guys dont get paid
 | 
| Now all the hopeless romantics are wearing white collars
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| (upstanding assassins?) cleaning filthy dollars
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| Car-jacking fanatics who kill for religion
 | 
| In a city full of addicts and color television |