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She lived on the curve in the road |
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In an old tar paper shack. |
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On the south side of the town |
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On the wrong side of the tracks. |
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Sometimes on the way into town |
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We'd say, "Mama can we stop and give her a ride?" |
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Sometimes we did |
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But her hands flew from her side. |
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Wild eyed |
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Crazy Mary. |
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Down the long dirt road |
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Past the Parson's place. |
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That old blue car |
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We used to race. |
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Little country store with a sign tacked to the side. |
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Said 'NO L-O-I-T-E-R-I-N-G ALLOWED.' |
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Underneath that sign always congregated quite a crowd. |
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Take a bottle drink it down. Pass it around. |
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Take a bottle drink it down. Drink it... Pass it around. Pass it a... |
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A-take a bottle drink it down. Pass it... Pass it a... Pass it around. |
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One night thunder cracked. |
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Mercy backed outside my windowsill. |
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Dreamed I was flying |
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High above the trees, over the hills. |
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Looked down into the house of Mary. |
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Terrible thoughts, newspaper covered walls. |
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And Mary rising up above it all. |
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Oh... Oh... Oh... |
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Next morning on the way into town |
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Saw some skid marks and followed them around. |
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Over the curve, |
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Through the fields, |
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Into the house of Mary. |
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That what you fear the most could meet you halfway. (x2) |
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Take a bottle drink it down. Pass it around. |
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Take a bottle drink it down. Pass it... Pass it around. Pass it a... |
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Take a bottle drink it down. Pass it... Pass it a... Pass it around. |
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Oh, pass it a... Pass it arround. Pass it a... Pass it a... Pass it a... |
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Oh yeah. |