| We found a house with a yard
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| And moved all of my things in And most of your things, in And honey I was proud of it Honey I was proud of, you
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| You quote the Good Book,
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| When it’s convenient
|
| But you don’t have the sense
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| No you don’t have the sense
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| To tie your tangled tongue
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| Instead you’re slashing through the mud
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| Some boxes, that
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| Hand-me-down couch, and chair
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| That used to be at your church
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| We borrowed them from there
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| A cabinet record player with nothing but James Taylor
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| Tore the carpets from the corner
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| To put in that hardwood floor
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| I’d be a fool to ask for more…
|
| You quote the Good Book,
|
| When it’s convenient
|
| But you don’t have the sense
|
| No you don’t have the sense
|
| To tie your tangled tongue
|
| Instead you’re slashing through the mud
|
| You quote the Good Book,
|
| When it’s convenient
|
| But you don’t have the sense
|
| No you don’t have the sense
|
| To tie your tangled tongue
|
| Instead you’re slashing through the mud
|
| The love you had was good enough
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| The path that we were stuck between
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| But so much stuff must go tonight,
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| Oh Lord, what have I done?
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| You quote the Good Book,
|
| When it’s convenient
|
| But you don’t have the sense
|
| No you don’t have the sense
|
| To tie your tangled tongue
|
| Instead you’re slashing through the mud |