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First thing he does when he climbs out of bed |
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He searches out a place to drink his daily bread |
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He wraps himself up tight in alcohol |
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It keeps him warm at night like grandma's shawl |
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When he was a child with everything planned and his body was clean |
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Now he sits all alone in a room with a view of the brick wall he's run into |
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Life has a way of leaving people like him stained |
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First thing she does when she goes out at night |
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She sells a smile to get what fills her up inside |
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She brings plenty home and slowy gets stoned in a room by herself |
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She sits all alone in a room with a view of the brick wall she's run into |
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Life has a way of leaving people like us stained |
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And we sit all alone and slowly get stoned in rooms by ourselves |
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We all sit all alone in a room with a view of the brick walls we'd run into |
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Life has a way of leaving people |
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Life has a way of leaving people stained |