It's different when you're lonely,
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the whole world's in love.
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Holding hands between bar stools,
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and you're holding your tounge.
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Hold on - you're so fucked up...
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so fickle.
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Isn't this what you want?
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So simple, so single.
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But it's different when you're helpless.
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When the bars close their doors,
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growing hostile towards your waitress...
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those extra tips went ignored.
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It's different 'cause you're desperate
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Begging mercy on the sidewalk
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to a sea of last callers
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(keep the conversations quick
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and keep them interested!)
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You're different...and they sense it
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Your eyes can't disguise it...
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so glassy, half empty.
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Ready to spill.
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Hold on- please don't leave yet.
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I can't go home alone,
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it doesn't go over so well.
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So hold on just a little longer.
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At least through the night,
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at least 'til the morning.
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Hold on. Hold on to me.
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I can hardly stand - much less
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the sight of myself.
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So hold on, hold on tight dear.
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Put your foot on the gas -
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get me the fuck out of here.
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-----------------
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O'Rourke's, 1: 20 A.M.
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The Good Life |