| Spent fifteen years getting loaded
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| Fifteen years 'till his liver exploded
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| Now what’s Bob gonna do
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| Now that he can’t drink?
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| The doctor said, «Whatcha been thinkin' 'bout?»
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| Bob said, «That's the point
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| I won’t think about nothing
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| Now I gotta do something else», Oi, oi, oi
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| To pass the time and someone shaved his head
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| He got a new identity
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| Sixty-two holed air cushioned boots
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| And a girl who rides a scooter ought
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| To take him out of town
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| They would get away
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| Riding around, as the trucks drive by
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| You could here the motherfuckers go
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| A couple of lines, an extra thermos of Joe
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| He’ll be kickin' in heads at the punk rock show, yeah
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| Bob’s the kinda guy he knows just what
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| Bob’s the kinda guy he knows just what to do
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| When the doctor tells him to
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| «Quit your drinkin', now’s the time»
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| Will he ever walk the line?
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| To all my friends, I feel just great
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| Will he ever walk the line?
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| Kickin' ass and bustin' heads
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| Red suspenders
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| Once a day he shaves his head
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| But will he ever walk the line?
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| Will he ever walk the line?
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| Will he ever walk the line?
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| Will he ever walk the line?
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| A will he ever walk the line?
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| Bob |