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Who would go to church but left me in the street |
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With no parents of my own, I never had a home |
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And an eighteen year old boy has got to eat |
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She found me outside, Sunday morning |
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Begging money from a man I didn't know |
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She took me in and wiped away my childhood |
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A lady of the streets this woman Rose |
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This bed of rose's that I lay on |
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Where I was taught to be a man |
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This bed of rose's where I'm livin' |
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Is the only kind of life I'll understand |
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She was a handsome woman, just thirty-five |
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Who was spoken to in town by very few |
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She managed a late evening business |
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Like most of the town wished they could do |
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And I learned all the things that a man should know |
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From a woman not approved of I suppose |
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But she died knowing that I really loved her |
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From life's bramble bush, I picked a rose |
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This bed of rose's that I lay on |
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Where I was taught to be a man |
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This bed of rose's where I'm livin' |
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Is the only kind of life I'll understand |
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This bed of rose's that I lay on |
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Where I was taught to be a man |
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This bed of rose's where I'm livin' |
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Is the only kind of life I'll understand |
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Is the only kind of life I'll understand |