| They tell me I’ve paid back the debt I owed
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| Forty-four months since the slammer door closed
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| They give me a suit and put me back on the road
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| And my thoughts are racing
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| Where do I go? |
| What am I supposed to live on?
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| What happens when the twenty-five dollars is gone?
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| That leaves me lots of time to wonder why I was born
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| But the countdown is on Everybody’s dancing
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| The music sounds entrancing
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| But you can’t find the beat
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| It’s the ticking of a thousand human time bombs
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| Who are back on the street
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| Oh the names have been changed
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| But the story’s the same
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| History will repeat
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| Add it all up and then divide it by zero
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| 'Cause you’re back on the street
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| I can’t stand the strain of this job no more
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| I must have forgot what I took it on for
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| I make lots of money, yet still I want more
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| And my head is blazing
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| I think that I’ll check out the shops downtown
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| Sometimes it helps to buy things when I feel brought down
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| At this hour I might dodge those hippie low-life's around
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| But the countdown is on Once you had to stand out |