| First stop was the bucket shop
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| To pick the pieces of your life up And scream looking glad
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| Since all that you despised
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| You’re thinking back to the Chicken Shack
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| And the smashing of the glass
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| And the knife in the back, well
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| My boy who would’ve believed your lies?
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| All your lies?
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| And no-one's going to sell you any alibis
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| Alibis
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| You dirty small town girls
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| How I wish you were here now
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| And show me how to be the man,
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| I’m your man
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| As only you can, as only you can
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| My White City girl
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| Well someone said you were an angel
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| Only what kind of angel
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| Would whisper 'hello'
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| And shout 'goodbye'
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| My White City girl
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| And I’ve seen you go down
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| On one too many times
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| It chills my bones to seem that way
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| Oh that way
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| And this aching heart of mine
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| You said you live your life by the Albion creed
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| So pure in thoughts and word and deed
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| Well, oh my boy, what did you gain?
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| Just empty bottles and … roots
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| And holes in the years of your cowboy boots
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| And that makes she’ll never forget your name
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| Or your lies…
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| And no-one's going to sell you any alibis
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| Alibis |