| It starts with a D-Minor chord
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| Head as the stone, heart as the sword
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| And the colour-blind cynic will always
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| Be singing the blues
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| I am not easily bruised
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| But the right kind of wrong will make me break like bad news
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| And I cashed out my days in purgatory
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| To spend time with you
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| Take your partner by the hand
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| Spin the coin around
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| Just where will the black ball land
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| In the waltz of the hare and the hound
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| There’s a car fire on Union Street
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| Smoking mementos have sequinned our feet
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| As we spin past the newsracks and the fake whores
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| To where the river begins
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| They’ll raise a plaque in our name
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| To honour the old tune we all play again
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| The band have gone home but the lovers
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| They sing and they sing
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| Take your partner by the hand
|
| Spin the coin around
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| Just where will the black ball land
|
| In the waltz of the hare and the hound
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| It ends with the sound of regret
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| A whole lot of mess and a tired epithet
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| Rosary beads and a headline
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| To keep the children amused
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| This one is scared to be found
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| This one’s blood-hungry with nose to the ground
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| And the ink drips, the time shifts
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| And I figure which one to choose
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| Take your partner by the hand
|
| Spin the coin around
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| Just where will the black ball land
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| In the waltz of the hare and the hound |