| Julia, take your man home
|
| He’s just sitting at the bar
|
| Carving shapes that look like dicks into the wood
|
| Julia, take your man home
|
| He keeps running in and out of the street
|
| With a weed between his teeth he calls a rose
|
| Julia, take your man home
|
| He keeps talking about New Jersey and cocaine
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| And some person he keeps saying is made of glass
|
| Julia, take your man home
|
| Lay him down on a bed of thorns
|
| And I’ve got a feeling
|
| He’ll say sorry
|
| Come tomorrow morning
|
| And when he wakes in a bed of thorns
|
| I’ve got a feeling
|
| He’ll say sorry
|
| Just wait for tomorrow morning
|
| When I asked him if he needed to go home
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| He said, «The beating heart of a lonely man is nothing but an unheard
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| decrescendo»
|
| Julia, take your man home
|
| He keeps filling up the room with smoke
|
| And then claiming that it’s just his ghost
|
| Said, Julia, take your man home
|
| Lay him down on a bed of thorns
|
| And I’ve got a feeling
|
| He’ll say sorry
|
| Come tomorrow morning
|
| And when he wakes in a bed of thorns
|
| I’ve got a feeling
|
| He’ll say sorry
|
| Just wait for tomorrow morning
|
| And you can tell him for yourself that you ain’t gonna pluck
|
| No rose petals out of his teeth for him
|
| To say that he loves you would be unfair towards you, and
|
| To say that he needs you would be unfair towards you, too
|
| To say that he loves you would be unfair towards you, and
|
| To say that he needs you would be unfair towards you, too |