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Thinking of poems of poverty |
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Sitting with a tight clenched wrist, thinking how to gain authority |
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Oh what a soft touch of a boy |
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He'd wander with pride to sell and keep visions to his self |
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Visions to his self |
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We'd talk of treasures, and over-rated games |
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We'd steal the milk bottles, sneaking through the back round Jimmy's way. |
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What we loved most of all, was sitting round the shop, while this poor boy was sitting all alone, |
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Sitting all alone |
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Pondering times of sanctuary |
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He was sitting taking his piano lessons, we were on half an E |
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Invested life in medicine, had so much shit going on. |
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Convinced he'd never win. Convinced he was a sin. |
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We'd speak of women and cheaper carryouts |
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We'd turn up to all the festivals, trying to bring down the touts, |
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What we love the most of all was sittin' at the shop, while this young boy was sittin' all alone, |
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Sittin' all alone |
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We'd talk of treasures and overrated games |
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We'd steal the milk bottles, sneaking through the back round Jimmy's way. |
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What we loved most of all, was sitting at the shop, while this poor boy was sitting all alone, |
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Sittin' all alone |
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He couldn't find none of his own kind, he didn't have none of his own kind |
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You should take interest in his mind, not spend all of his time wastin all his money and time |
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What we loved most of all was hanging round the shop |
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What we loved most was sitting round the shop |
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What we loved most was standing at the Dryburgh shop, |
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What we loved the most was hanging round the shop while he was all alone |