| Well It’s Good Afternoon
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| Cuz' I slept in much too long,
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| Well I woke up today, sixty days on
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| And I would not even be here,
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| If I stuck with that same Old Song And Dance.
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| With the booze and pills and powders,
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| And the bloodymary mornings,
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| Red headed sluts and car bombs
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| Irish Whiskey and Scotch everything
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| The heroin, cocaine and morphine
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| Ecstasy, Opium and Wine,
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| Uppers, Downers, Siders
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| And Alaskan Girls will kick your ass
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| With Northern Lights and Southern Comfort
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| Good weed, bad weed, hash and hypnotized.
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| Tequila and cheap beer,
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| Belgian beers' the best
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| but I could never get enough Ativans
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| Said, Xanies and Valiums' the stuff,
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| Got me feelin' good but lookin' rough
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| And I never found Paote
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| So if it’s great, be sure and let me know
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| Cuz' the mushrooms and acid did just fine
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| Oh, thank you drugs we had us a time, yo
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| Thanks for all the fun
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| And the seven times in jail but now I’m done
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| And I wish you the best
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| Be sure to call me every now and then,
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| But mostly then
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| I hope you’re satisfied
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| Cuz' you should be
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| Dear Old Song and Dance
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| When I put you first and missed that day
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| I knew I had to hit the brakes
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| I was sick and tired of waking up
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| With a dead man in my eyes
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| Now if you’re Dutch,
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| You can laugh,
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| The rest of you can all fuck off.
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| Thank God I’m getting older,
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| And just now learning who I am.
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| I’m getting older,
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| And learning who I am
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| And waking up sober in Amsterdam |