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I've been done by the tax collector, |
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Had by the kids in the street, |
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By the girls in Wisconsin telling their boyfriends about me. |
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So I'm on the next train to Carson, |
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To you. |
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I've made a truce with my fascinations, |
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And drilled myself on my dealings with the urge. |
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And I'm still reading the junk newspapers, |
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Still playing that old brow-beating dirt. |
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But I'm on th next train to Carson, |
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To you. |
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And they can hang me out to dry in Carson, |
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With you. |
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They've only got ones like you in Carson, Wisconsin. |
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They can hang me out to dry in Carson, |
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With you. |