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Ah don't touch that dial |
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Here's a word about my ex-girlfriend |
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Towards the end conflict off and on |
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And I told her one night, "Honey every time we fight |
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I'll write a verse to this song" |
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Well, things got bad and things got worse |
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Still I struggled on |
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So sit back and get all comfortable |
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'Cause this little tunes six fuckin' hours long |
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And every journey's got destinations |
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Which the traveler can't expect |
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So how's that I'm always winding up |
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Down here at land's edge? |
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Now if love is blind why did her stockings |
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Always look so cool? |
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Now I know I was paying attention |
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But somehow I got fooled |
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Well I gave her seven children |
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And a twelve room uptown shack |
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And when it all was over |
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Took a dozen lawyers |
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To get half back |
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But I already got me a new gal to ruin my life |
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And she might just yet, |
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So I'm helping her find an apartment |
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Down here at land's edge |
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Now take the traveler and the tourist |
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The essential difference is |
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The traveler don't know where he's goin' |
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And the tourist don't know where he is |
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Small world till they lose your luggage, tho' |
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Take the stripper who lives next door |
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You'd swear this kid was 21 goin' on 44 |
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But luckily that ain't how she sees it |
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Got a new tattoo that says: |
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"when I die, send the body to heaven, |
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Lost the rest at land's edge" |