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Down down down down |
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The wicked candle burns to the ground |
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Down down down down |
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The wicked candle burns |
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The body is stone |
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but the soul is made of cloud |
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And it has no home but to cry out loud |
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We run and we run |
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Try to cover lots of ground |
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But in the end |
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Down down |
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Down down down down |
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Burns the cigarette to your mouth |
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It felt like something coming |
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But it never came around |
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And all the while |
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Down down |
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The bottles are all empty |
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And the moon is still |
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Above the folks that sell the weapons and the folks that kill |
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Are you a coward or a convict? |
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Is it hard to tell? |
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Both the lonesome and the restless are sleeping well |