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I work in a saloon, pulling shit pints for shit wages. |
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It's a busy night tonight. |
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And the bar is full of all the girls |
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I've ever shagged, or tampered with, or kissed, or even just fancied. |
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A pub full of conquests, knockbacks. |
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Between the laughter |
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I can here my name. |
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And then, through the gap between the swing doors and floor, |
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I see your feet. |
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You push open the doors and walk in |
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And as always all heads turn. |
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And the room becomse silent, except for the sound or your |
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DM's scuffing on the floor. |
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You stroll through the jealous gaze straight to the bar, smile, and ask for some exotic cocktail. |
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But I don't know how to make it. |
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So you just shrug, smile again, |
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Turnaround and leave |
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And I pull another pint. |