| I’ve held your hand and sunk your ships
|
| And I can read our future in the whiskey on your lips
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| Watch this ice a-melting; |
| cool glass magnify my palms
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| And from the church on sunday evening comes the sifted sound of psalms
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| Things they go and then come around to stops
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| Now my baby’s just a breeze through the treetops
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| Glass in my hand, my back to the door
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| My one consolation is I ain’t your man anymore
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| The drop
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| Oh, I worry just about the drop
|
| Oh, I worry just about the drop
|
| 'cause it’s not the fall that kills you
|
| But, the sudden stop
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| Machiavelli on the door
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| The shogun dropped his chopsticks in the bowl
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| Oh, you might get past her, but you never pay the toll
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| I’m flippin' from left to right
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| Oh, I’m flippin' like a moth to light
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| I could never ask your baby
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| I’ll wish for you tonight
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| I’ll wish for you
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| I worry just about the drop
|
| I worry about the drop
|
| 'cause it’s not the fall that kills you
|
| It’s that sudden stop
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| That sudden stop, now
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| Is she alligator
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| Yeah, she’s a crocodile
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| She got that ancient?
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| That’s just hanging out of her smile
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| When she called you at the keyhole, brother
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| She knew it all the while
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| Oh, I worry just about the drop
|
| Oh, I worry (I'm so worried, mama) about the drop
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| 'cause it’s not the fall that kills you
|
| But that sudden stop |