| Dusted down in shanty town behind a sky of red
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| Hoist upon some frozen dawn exploding in my head
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| Fast asleep in trouble deep or wide awake and burning
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| Stuck inside some stranger’s hide whose karma keeps returning
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| Where you trail that holy grail of darkness and despair
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| Way cross town, now up now down, as though you’d really care
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| On the bus across from us seen once in silhouette
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| The old man’s face you couldn’t place that now you can’t forget
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| Down and dirty
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| There you go
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| Lucky henry says hello
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| Burned his bridges high and low
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| And down the road and gone
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| It’s raining boxcars did you know
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| From County Cook to Baltimore
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| Where ever those old jockeys go
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| To live out their lifelines
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| Burning down that two lane town the boys call hollywood
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| Kicked around now lost now found now lost again for good
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| Badly placed or half erased or lost in space and time
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| And all because the real one was the disappearing kind
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| Now you tumble
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| Now you know
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| Lucky henry says hello
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| Scratched in verses high and low
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| And down to hell and gone I’m told
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| It’s raining boxcars that’s for sure
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| From Bakersfield to Elsinore
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| For all what I care anymore
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| For now and forever gone gone gone |