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You never woke up beside a stranger |
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But you never spent the night alone |
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In your jacket is a flask of Southern Comfort |
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In your pocket you got a comb |
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I know you, I know you |
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You? ve been pushed right to the limit |
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Lived on a lonesome road |
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Chopped up an old barn dresser |
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To heat the house once in the cold |
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I know you, yeah, I know you |
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Well, I know where you go |
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When you want to be alone |
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I know just how hard you work |
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And how much money you bring home |
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You love the sound of church bells |
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But you hate sitting in a pew, baby, I know you |
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D. H. Lawrence would be your favorite poet |
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If you thought poetry was cool |
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You have too much pride to be a thief |
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And just enough gut to be a fool |
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Baby, I know you, I know you |
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Well, I know the sound of your thunder |
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And I know the smell of your rain |
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I know every time you walk out that door |
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You might stumble back in it again |
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Yeah, I know you, well, yes, I do |
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Baby blue, I know you |
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Well, I know that you feel bad |
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For every bad thing that you do |
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You got a scar in your right cheek |
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And the fear of God embedded in you |
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Your mother had a wooden spoon |
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And a shamrock tattoo, baby, I know you |
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Well, no other woman? s gonna feel |
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Beneath the skin that you are in |
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No other woman? s gonna read your mind |
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And be sorry for your sins |
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I know you, I know you |
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Well, I know what you look like |
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Just before you cry |
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I know how to make you sick |
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And I know how to make you die |
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The only thing I could never do |
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Is let you say goodbye, say goodbye to you |
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? Cause I know you, I know you |
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You never woke up beside a stranger |
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But you never spent the night alone |
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In your jacket is a flask of Southern Comfort |
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In your pocket you got a comb |