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My name is Mud |
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Not to be confused with Bill or Jack or Pete or Dennis |
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My name is mud and it's always been |
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'Cause I'm the most boring sons-a-bitch you've ever seen |
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I dress in blue-yes navy blue |
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From head to toe I'm rather drab except my patent shoes |
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I make 'em shine, well most the time |
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'Cept today my feet are troddin' on by this friend of mine |
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Six foort two and rude as hell |
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I got to get him in the ground before he starts to smell |
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My name is Mud |
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My name is Mud, |
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but call me Alowishus Devadander Abercrombie |
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That's long for Mud, so I've been told |
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Told that by this sonsabitch that lies before me bloated blue and cold |
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I've got my pride, I drink my wine |
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I'd drink the finest except I haven't earned a dime in several months |
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Or were it years |
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The breath on that fat bastard could bring any man to tears |
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We had our words, a common spat |
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So I kissed him upside the cranium with an aluminum baseball bat |