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Around the curve of The Parrot Bar |
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A broken-down old movie star |
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Hustling and Easterner |
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Bringing out the beast in her |
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A high dive on a swimming pool |
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Filled with needles and with fools |
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The memories are short but the tales are long |
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When you're in the Reeperbahn |
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Oh, they called her Rosie when she was a girl |
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For her bright red cheeks and her strawberry curls |
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When she would laugh the river would run |
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She said she'd be a comedian |
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Oh what a pity, oh what a shame |
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When she said, 'come calling', nobody came |
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Now her bright red cheeks are painted on |
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And she's laughing her head off in the Reeperbahn |
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Now little Hans was always strange |
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Wearing womens underthings |
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His father beat him but he wouldn't change |
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He ran off with a man one day |
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Now his lingerie is all the rage |
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In the black on every page |
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His father proudly calls his name |
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Down there in the Reeperbahn |
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Now if you've lost your inheritance |
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And all you've left is common sense |
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And you're not too picky about the crowd you keep |
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Or the mattress where you sleep |
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Behind every window, behind every door |
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The apple has gone but there's always the core |
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And the seeds will sprout up right through the floor |
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Down there in the Reeperbahn |
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Down there in the Reeperbahn |
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Down there in the Reeperbahn |