| The Voodoo lady must have put a spell on me,
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| (Because) I’m not the same as I used to be.
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| No regrets, just lack of memories,
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| And always sleeping with the enemy.
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| There’s no luck in Nevada,
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| Just misfortune and misery.
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| Hiding behind Elvis Presley,
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| The devil sits there waiting for me.
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| I wake up at the Happy Hour
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| With all the miserable souls like me,
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| To soak my thoughts of poverty
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| And hiding pain with shots of cheap whiskey.
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| Cut-out pictures on my concrete walls
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| Tell the story (of) what I’ve left behind,
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| Tattoos teardrops under my eyes
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| Prove that even locos cry.
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| Smile now, cry later.
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| Smile now.
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| Sometimes I see that guy that has it figured out,
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| Is he happy with prosperity?
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| Taking no risk, so ordinary,
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| Walking the line of conformity.
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| Tears of a clown locked in a cage.
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| I read the book with missing pages.
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| Is it sorrow or frustration
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| That keeps me in this reality?
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| Smile now, cry later.
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| Smile now. |