| Here comes the wayward Son
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| And he’s going to find direction at last
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| «Hey kids kick it all around cause I’m going to read my paper before I look
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| through the lens»
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| Like Hemmingway would always say
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| «Hey, you know, you know that the Man makes the work»
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| Your naysayers don’t get your groovin'
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| As your reaching for your elephant gun
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| He was just, just, just, just, just so to the point it’s scary
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| Just so, say it isn’t «Uh Ho»
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| Just so to the point it’s scary
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| it’s scary
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| Girl One, she loved you true
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| And you were lost in her smile till along came number Two
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| Sense a rift, you didn’t write it in the script
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| Then came number Three and she’s lapping up your Cocktail Blues
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| Showed the door to number Four
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| Cute little number, you were looking for a higher score
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| Met a Crocodile, happy for a little while
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| Now she’s getting snappy and she’s making allegations
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| Just, just, just, just so to the point it’s scary
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| She dropped the bomb with her usual aplomb (sing her a long song)
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| She was just so to the point it’s scary
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| it’s scary
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| Listen John you could my Saviour
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| Making with my Flavia, scenes from Scandinavia
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| Winds blow, she come from the Seven Seas
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| Uh oh, Vikings in the Hebrides
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| Press keys, spell check, press send, «We still friends?»
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| No reply, guts spilled, she’s strong willed, it’s not a thrill to love her
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| A broken heart, I headed for a foreign land
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| A New York Tempeh sandwhich so take me to Angelica’s (300 East 12th Street)
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| Houston we don’t have a problem, Tom Hanks, no thanks
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| To the promise of a better world (Goodbye Apollo 13)
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| Cute girl said «Come to Philadelphia»
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| I took the Gamble then she took the Huff
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| Mancunian Polish Sex Priestess, pulled down her dress said
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| «Enough is enough»
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| She was just, she was just, just, just, just so to the point it’s scary
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| She dropped the bomb with her usual aplomb
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| She was just so to the point it scared me
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| it’s scared me
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| it’s scared me
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| Hey John, I’m kissing out of tune
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| Won’t you tell me your prescription, tell me what I’m missing
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| «Hey Boy, you gotta hear what I say
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| You gotta fill your ears with marrow from a cow killed in the hay»
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| May Horse, she’s a mean little apple
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| Hatful, capful, three bushel bagfuls
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| Hold my hand let’s pray to the saints
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| She said «Get yourself a backbone, you ain’t no invertebrate» |