| Well she’s halfway over this hard on son
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| She’s not gone yet but she’s leaving
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| And she’s quite sure she’s not the only one
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| She’s not gone yet but she’s leaving
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| Well there’s a quiver up her backbone, dogs in the dust
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| She’s not gone yet but she’s leaving
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| And she’ll take what she needs and she’ll do what she must
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| She’s not gone yet but she’s leaving
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| There’s a raw bone whisper underneath the cover
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| Louder than a dead man’s drum
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| There’s a joke that they told her when she got much older
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| When she knew just what she’d become
|
| Oh let me tell ya that she’s…
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| One part evil, three-fifths blind
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| She’s not gone yet but she’s leaving
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| And she’s oh so delicate and still don’t mind
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| She’s not gone yet but she’s leaving
|
| Well there’s a chance that she knows where the bodies are kept
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| She’s not gone yet but she’s leaving
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| And she still don’t remember the tears that she wept
|
| She’s not gone yet but she’s leaving
|
| There’s a raw bone whisper underneath the cover
|
| Louder than a dead man’s drum
|
| There’s a joke that they told her when she got much older
|
| When she knew just what she’d become
|
| Oh let me tell ya now…
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| Well she’s all too generous with my time
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| She’s not gone yet but she’s leaving
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| And she knows that injustice is no real crime
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| She’s not gone yet but she’s leaving
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| And I will always remember the way that she crawled
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| She’s not gone yet but she’s leaving
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| When I throw up in the rain she pretends she’s appalled
|
| She’s not gone yet but she’s leaving
|
| There’s a raw bone whisper underneath the cover
|
| Louder than a dead man’s drum
|
| There’s a joke that they told her when she got much older
|
| When she knew just what she’d become |