| Twelve men broke loose in seventy three
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| From Millhaven Maximum Security
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| Twelve pictures lined up across the front page
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| Seems the Mounties had a summertime war to wage
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| Well, the chief told the people they had nothing to fear
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| Said, «The last thing they want to do is hang around here»
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| They mostly came from towns with long French names
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| But one of the dozen was a hometown shame
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| Same pattern on the table, same clock on the wall
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| Been one seat empty eighteen years in all
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| Freezing slow time, away from the world
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| He’s thirty eight years old, never kissed a girl
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| He’s thirty eight years old, never kissed a girl
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| We were sitting round the table, heard the telephone ring
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| Father said he tell them if he saw anything
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| Heard the tap on my window in the middle of the night
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| Held back the curtain for my older brother Mike
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| See my sister got raped, so a man got killed
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| Local boy went to prison, man’s buried on the hill
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| Folks went back to normal when they closed the case
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| They still stare at their shoes when they pass our place
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| My mother cried, «The horror has finally ceased»
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| He whispered, «Yeah, for the time being at least»
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| And over his shoulder on the squad car megaphone
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| Said, «Let's go, Michael, son, we’re taking you home»
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| Same pattern on the table, same clock on the wall
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| Been one seat empty eighteen years in all
|
| Freezing slow time, away from the world
|
| He’s thirty eight years old, never kissed a girl
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| He’s thirty eight years old, never kissed a girl
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| He’s thirty eight years old, never kissed a girl |