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That little junky girl, |
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Youre playing right into her hand, you know. |
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And sold your furniture, |
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Sold your cables and your mic. |
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Who stopped in Kensington, |
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And saw you werent doing so well these days? |
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And helped you out of bed, |
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And made you give it one more try. |
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I made you sandwiches, |
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I brought you magazines and playing cards, |
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But saw no bandages, |
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And saw no evidence of help. |
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And told you all I know, |
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And told you what I thought you should do: |
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Shes not the one for you, |
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Its time you found somebody else. |
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Shes the source and you know |