| The gin was just like Gideon
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| The kings were just like Solomon
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| The bashes were like Babylon
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| The jester kept on jacking off
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| Nervous cough, nervous cough, nervous cough and now we’re off
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| Went down on the Denver slums and she woke up in the Rocky Mountain dawn
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| Felt all freed up from the fears that you can never put your finger on
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| Finger on, finger on, finger on and now we’re gone
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| We were smoking to the drinking songs off Talking Songs for Walking
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| Waving Marlboros like magic wands
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| Listen up closely to the lit tips of your cigarettes
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| Can’t you hear the serpent hiss?
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| Saying «sweet baby suck on this»
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| The white wine was the nectar
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| The oldies made me feel like Phil Spector
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| Is Charlemagne your main man or is he just your sad protector?
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| You know you look so good together
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| But sometimes i get a feeling that you’re a little bit restless
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| It’s a small scene already and it gets dirty on the fringes
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| You sucked through his defenses
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| She said I usually wouldn’t do this
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| But I couldn’t help but notice
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| You had that text across your t-shirt
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| It said «what would Judas do?»
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| He had those punching rings
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| He smoked the Camel Filter Kings
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| We went back behind the building
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| He did a brisk little business
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| His party favors were party saviors
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| Otherwise we might have never made it
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| Went down in the Springfield slums and woke up in the Sugar Mountain pines
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| Only to find that what you put into your mouth always gets into your mind |