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Living off the friends we made, never ever getting paid |
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Kicking ass and paying dues, lose our mind in self abuse |
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Loving ladies by the score, waking up and wanting more |
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I hope my mama understands, when |
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I strike up the band |
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Well I spit out my anger as the sweat do fly |
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Fifteen years of paying dues just to get me by |
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Now the barkeeps would pay us by the crowds we bring |
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But those son-of-bitches never paid us one damn thing |
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And my poor daddy, he just don't understand |
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It's balls out tonight, watch the shit hit the fan |
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When we strike up the band |
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Now those drop dead ladies line the very first row |
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I do believe, |
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I'd like to spend some time after the show |
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Now them years gone by, the barkeeps pay in cash |
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And them lovely ladies feed me an earful of trash |
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And my old lady, she just don't understand |
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Why those floozies got their hands on her man |
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And my poor daddy, he still don't understand |
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It's balls out tonight watch the shit hit the fan |
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Give it all that we can, we don't give a goddamn |
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When we strike up the band, when we strike up the band |
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Living like a gypsy, an air conditioned hippie |
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Who's never seen the light of day |
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Rode dog and cowboy, don't know how, boy |
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I ever lived this long this way, no, no, said |
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And my poor daddy, he still don't understand |
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It's balls out tonight watch the shit hit the fan |
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Give it all that we can, we don't give a goddamn |
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When we strike up the band |