| 5am
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| Friday morning
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| Thursday night
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| Far from sleep
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| I’m still up and driving
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| Can’t go home
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| obviously
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| So I’ll just change direction
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| Cause they’ll soon konw where I live
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| And I wanna live
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| Got a full tank and some chips
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| It was me and a gun
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| And a man on my back
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| And I sang «holy holy"as he buttoned down his pants
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| You can laugh
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| It’s kind of funny things you think
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| at times like these
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| Like I haven’t seen Barbados
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| So I must get out of this
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| Yes I wore a slinky red thing
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| Does that mean I should spread
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| For you, your friends your father, Mr. Ed Me and a gun
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| and a man
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| On my back
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| But I haven’t seen Barbados
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| So I must get out of this
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| Yes I wore a slinky red thing
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| Does that mean I should spread
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| For you, your friends your father, Mr. Ed And I know what this means
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| Me and Jesus a few years back
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| Used to hang and he said
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| «It's your choice babe just remember
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| I don’t think you’ll be back in 3 days time
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| So you choose well»
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| Tell me what’s right
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| Is it my right to be on my stomach
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| of Fred’s Seville
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| Me and a gun
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| and a man
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| On my back
|
| But I haven’t seen Barbados
|
| So I must get out of this
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| And do you know Carolina
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| Where the biscuits are soft and sweet
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| These things go through you head
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| When there’s a man on your back
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| And you’re pushed flat on your stomach
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| It’s not a classic cadillac
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| Me and a gun
|
| and a man
|
| On my back
|
| But I haven’t seen Barbados
|
| So I must get out of this |