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Knee deep and born into it, |
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You didn't ask for this and don't I know it? |
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A father's son, |
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We couldn't hope for less. |
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Pry these workds from my cold dead lips, |
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Home is where the heart is. |
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And the ghosts I draw |
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Will leave you cold. |
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A bankrupt father |
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To skin and bones. |
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I'm moving over; |
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I'm making room for you. |
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I'm making room. |
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I will occupy the space between |
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What you say and what you mean. |
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And you say |
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That the devil's in the detail. |
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And if that's true |
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When he is through with me he will |
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Sure as hell be after you. |
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And the ghosts I draw |
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Will leave you cold. |
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A bankrupt father |
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To skin and bones. |
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We escape, we escape, we escape |
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With our minds made up. |
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We escape, we escape, we escape |
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And our time is up. |