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They talked to the sister, the father and the mother |
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With a microphone in one hand and a chequebook in the other |
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And the camera noses in to the tears on her face |
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The tears on her face |
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The tears on her face |
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You can put them back together with your paper and paste |
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But you can't put them back together |
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You can't put them back together |
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What would you say? What would you do? |
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Children and animals two by two |
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Give me the needle, give me the rope |
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We're going to melt them down for pills and soap |
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Four and twenty crowbars, jemmy your desire |
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Out of the frying pan into the fire |
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The king is in the counting house |
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Some folk have all the luck |
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And all we get are pictures of lord and lady muck |
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They come from lovely people with a hard line in hypocrisy |
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There are ashtrays of emotion for the fag ends of the aristocracy |
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What would you say? What would you do? |
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Children and animals two by two |
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Give me the needle, give me the rope |
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We're going to melt them down for pills and soap |
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Give me the needle, give me the rope |
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The sugar coated pill is getting bitterer still |
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You think your country needs you but you know it never will |
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So pack up your troubles in a stolen handbag |
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Don't dilly dally boys, rally round the flag |
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Give us our daily bread in individual slices |
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And something in the daily rag to cancel any crisis |
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What would you say? What would you do? |
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Children and animals two by two |
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Give me the needle, give me the rope |
|
We're going to melt them down for pills and soap |
|
Give me the needle, give me the rope |
|
We're going to melt them down for pills and soap |