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Well he hung all his wild years |
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On a nail which he drove |
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Through his wife's lovely forehead |
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That he laid on their stove |
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Then he looked for his matches |
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And heated the heat |
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And his soul clasped it's hands |
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'Bout his deed |
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Then he took two gallons |
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Of gas in a can |
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And doused everything in the house |
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How nice it was burning |
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But he didn't look back |
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Never get caught in a trap |
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And he felt the same old freedom |
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He used to feel before |
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In days of yore |
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And his boss saw the muzzle |
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Of his old army gun |
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The trigger was pulled and he gone |
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He was catching the glimpse |
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Of forthcoming live |
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Well, you've gotta be tough to survive |
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And the earth kept on turning |
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Like in days of yore |
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As an old paltry man reached the shore |
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And he felt like a little nothing |
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But there was no more pain |
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So he jumped and thought |
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"Let's do it again" |
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And he felt the same old freedom |
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He used to feel before |
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In days of yore |
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And he felt the same old fre |