| There’s a lot of shady guys
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| A lot of snake fingered creeps
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| And you’ve seen them creeping
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| Down the quiet suburban streets
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| Heads in the clouds
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| But they’re cold and black
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| Feet on the ground
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| But something must have cracked
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| And if you listen to their story
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| They’re bound to raise a smile
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| And if you listen to their story
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| You’ll surely run a mile
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| The chicken hawks are coming and
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| They’re dressing up like clowns
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| And the distance in their eyes
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| Is the distance back to town
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| They’ve got that long stare
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| They’ve seen it all before
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| They can never get enough
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| And they’re back for more
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| And if you listen to their story
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| You’re bound to raise a smile
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| And if you listen to their story
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| You’re sure to raise a smile
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| If you coloured this city
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| All the colours of its dreams
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| You’d be down in darkness
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| You’d be sensitive to screams
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| And all flesh is grass but
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| For the moment it’s meat
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| So don’t expose your children
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| To suburban streets
|
| And if you listen to their story
|
| They’re bound to raise a smile
|
| And if you listen to their story
|
| You’ll surely run a mile
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| Won’t you? |