| All my heroes are going to Heaven
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| All the junkies and the liars and the fools
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| All good-timin' men will leave their voices on the wind
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| It’s a kindness we cannot repay to them
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| There’s a choir singin' in a southern accent, a fiddle in the band
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| There’s a «Hallelujah!"on the lips of every dying man
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| Mama, don’t you cry when they’re dead and gone
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| Jesus, he loves his sinners and Heaven is a honky-tonk
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| I won’t say their names
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| They’ve been said enough in vain
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| Just the memory and the thousand years of smiles
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| The lines around your eyes
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| Tell me you’re not far behind
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| But I can see that livin' free was worth the while
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| There’s a choir singin' in a southern accent, a fiddle in the band
|
| There’s a «Hallelujah!"on the lips of every dying man
|
| Mama, don’t you cry when they’re dead and gone
|
| Jesus, he loves his sinners and Heaven is a honky-tonk
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| Happiness, they say, is a jukebox that always plays
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| And a lonesome heart ain’t lonely anymore
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| Every soul that dared passed on is now covered in neon
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| They dance with silver wings on wooden floors
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| There’s a choir singin' in a southern accent, a fiddle in the band
|
| There’s a «Hallelujah!"on the lips of every dying man
|
| Mama, don’t you cry when they’re dead and gone
|
| Jesus, he loves his sinners and Heaven is a honky-tonk |