| He is in his room, men will be there soon
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| They come to smash the heaven he has known
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| Now he’s sure to know soon that he must go This backstreet dream he has to leave behind
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| Oh, what a shame, oh what a shame
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| He’s a poor old man, poor old man
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| Poor old man, can we help you?
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| Things are at their worst, what should he do first?
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| He must wonder, no one wants to know
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| He must spread his wings, pack away his things
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| A sack is all he needs for all he owns
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| Tears they blind his eyes, tears blind his eyes
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| He’s a poor old man, poor old man
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| Poor old man, can we help you at all?
|
| Poor old man, poor old man
|
| Poor old man, can we help you at all?
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| Poor old man, poor old man
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| Poor old man, can we help you at all? |