Bought the old farmland for a song
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Sold it for many reasons
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Too many of them wrong
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Horseshoe bets and the women that came along
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Blind-drunk on their demon rum
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Is knowledge a product of his holiness
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A mad cousin to his loneliness
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Maniacs in cages
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And patriots and sages
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A cruel old/on telling of the books
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But I'll not give
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Myself, to the ground
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I kill more than I
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Live so slowly
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Live so slowly
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Say one thing and then do another
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Bunker down in your alsatian den
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We ain't got room for your politics here
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Politicians make a bad name for the con-man
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And water felt like burning metal
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Set off by a dying sun
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Them women they circle
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Like covered wagons crying
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Their loved ones back from where they, gone
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And I'll not give
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Myself to the ground
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I kill more than I
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Live so slowly
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Live so slowly
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Held Up By The Wires
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State Radio |