| You can tell tall stories till the cows come home
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| In a way that makes people believe them
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| What you lack in honesty is made up in charisma
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| And no one notices as you deceive them
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| You can make excuses till the cows come home
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| Reel them off one after the other
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| You can take my sympathy, milk it for all it’s worth
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| But there’ll come a time when you’ll discover
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| There’s a limit
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| There’s a limit
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| There’s only so far you can go
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| There’s a limit
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| There’s a limit
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| You can take advantage till the cows come home
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| Of whoever happens to be near
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| And when it’s convenient, your memory is foggy
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| At the same time your conscience is clear
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| But there’s a limit
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| There’s a limit
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| It’s been going on so long now
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| Since I introduced you
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| To people who are getting used
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| Or else they’re getting used to
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| You
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| You can charm the birds out of the trees
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| Till the cows come home
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| But my patience is sure put to the test
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| When I return and in return for trying to help out
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| Find someone else is shitting in my nest
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| There’s a limit
|
| There’s a limit
|
| There’s only so far you can go
|
| There’s a limit
|
| There’s a limit
|
| It’s been going on so long now
|
| Since I introduced you
|
| To people who are getting used
|
| Or else they’re getting used to
|
| You |