The tempest blows up from a squall
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Past the Cape of Bad Conscience
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Into the Gulf of the Cauldron
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Roars over the coastline to batter and flatten
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Exposing the roots like the dyed hair of slattern
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Scrapper and mauler in a rope ring this small
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Outside the wind is punching
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There's no one left to hear it
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No one hears the bell ring
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Except the one who comes to fear it
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And they continue to brawl
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He's buying his way into heaven I suppose
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He weeps at the blows
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But down in a location that we cannot disclose
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He turns the dial slowly
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Through the Stations of the Cross
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Crowd done up dandy
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In diamonds and finery
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Baying and howling
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All bloodlusty calling
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Fists like pistons
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Faces like meat spoiling
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Haul, boys, haul, bully-boys haul
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Later that evening
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Molly and her gunman
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Go down the stairs to a dive like a dungeon
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Meanwhile in the backroom there's a girl like a sponge
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Saying, "Bring him in long as a constable's truncheon"
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The gunman wants Molly to kingdom come
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Then blows them all to the hereafter
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Who's scuttling away now and hidden from our view?
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Who tightened the tourniquet, turning her blue?
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They're hurling themselves into heaven I suppose
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Before the gates are closed
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But down in a location that we cannot disclose
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They'll turn the dial slowly through the Stations of the Cross
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The gale of hale laughter
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Scales up the ivory
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The black keys of her fine whine descend into the minor
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Die away breathless
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Diminishing behind her
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Haul boys haul, bully-boys haul
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The water came up to the eaves
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You'd think someone had opened a valve
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It's too soon to stay now and too late to leave
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So spare your remorse all the way up to Calvary
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They're hurling themselves into heaven I suppose
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Before the gates are closed
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But down in a location that we cannot disclose
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I'm turning the dial slowly through the Stations of the Cross
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-----------------
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Stations Of The Cross
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Elvis Costello |