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As I slow down on purple avenues |
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To march around in April's shoes |
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The weathervanes remind |
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Of summertimes that I've left behind |
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All the money's gone for Auld Lang Syne |
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I spent on Eastern Standard Time |
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What happened to my roll(2) |
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September fell right through the hole |
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All I've got is empty pockets now |
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Oh why does August try so hard |
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To hoist me on my own petard(3) |
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I've learned one thing from losing her |
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That an ounce of prevention's worth a pound of cure |
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The shadows fall, I cannot thread |
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The tenor of the things you've said |
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All that's left is flesh and bone(4) |
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The lights are on but no one's home |
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All I've got is empty pockets now |
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I spill myself another drink |
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I count the whiskers in the sink(5) |
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The orchestra is blind |
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But I've never been the worrying kind |
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Subsequently and furthermore |
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I'll sleep right here on the draining board |
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I will never be paroled |
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I like to drink them while they're cold |
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All I've got is empty pockets now |