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He is in his room, men will be there soon |
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They come to smash the heaven he has known |
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Now he's sure to know soon that he must go |
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This backstreet dream he has to leave behind |
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Oh, what a shame, oh what a shame |
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He's a poor old man, poor old man |
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Poor old man, can we help you? |
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Things are at their worst, what should he do first? |
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He must wonder, no one wants to know |
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He must spread his wings, pack away his things |
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A sack is all he needs for all he owns |
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Tears they blind his eyes, tears blind his eyes |
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He's a poor old man, poor old man |
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Poor old man, can we help you at all? |
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Poor old man, poor old man |
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Poor old man, can we help you at all? |
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Poor old man, poor old man |
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Poor old man, can we help you at all? |