| It was a pretty big year for fashion
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| A lousy year for rock and roll
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| The people gave their blessings to crimes of passion
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| It was a dark, dark night of the collective soul
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| I was somewhere out on riverside
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| By the El Royale Hotel
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| When a stranger appeared in a cloud of smoke
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| I thought I knew him all too well
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| He said «Now that I have your attention
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| I got somethin' I wanna say
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| You may not want to hear it
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| I’m gonna tell it to you anyway
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| You know, I’ve always liked you, boy
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| 'Cause you were not afraid of me But things are gonna get mighty rough
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| Here in Gomorrah-By-The-Sea»
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| He said «It's just like home
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| It’s so damned hot, I can’t stand it My fine seersucker suit is all soakin' wet»
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| And all the hills are burning
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| The wind is raging
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| And the clock strikes midnight
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| In the Garden of Allah
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| «Nice car…
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| I love those Bavarians… so meticulous
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| Y’know, I remember a time when things were a lot more
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| Fun around here
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| When good was good, and evil was evil
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| Before things got so… fuzzy
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| Yeah, I was once a golden boy like you
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| I was summoned to the halls of power in the heavenly court
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| And I dined with the deities who looked upon me with favor
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| For my talents; |
| my creativity
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| We sat beneath the palms in the warm afternoons
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| And drank the wine with Fitzgerald and Huxley
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| They pawned a biting phrase
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| From tongues hot with blood
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| And drained their pens of bitter ink
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| Vainly reaching for the bottle full of empty Edens
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| Branded special for the ones
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| Who had come with great expectations
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| To the perfumed halls of Allah
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| For their time in the sun
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| We were stokin' the fires
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| And oilin' up the machinery
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| Until the gods found out we had ideas of our own"
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| And the war was coming
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| The earth was shaking
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| And there was no more room
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| In the Garden of Allah
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| «Today I made an appearance downtown
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| I am an expert witness, because I say I am And I said, 'Gentleman…and I use that word loosely…
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| I will testify for you
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| I’m a gun for hire, I’m a saint, I’m a liar
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| Because there are no facts, there is no truth
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| Just a data to be manipulated
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| I can get any result you like
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| What’s it worth to ya?
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| Because there is no wrong, there is no right
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| And I sleep very well at night
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| No shame, no solution
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| No remorse, no retribution
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| Just people selling T-shirts
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| Just opportunity to participate in the pathetic little circus
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| And winning, winning, winning'»
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| It was a pretty big year for predators
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| The marketplace was on a roll
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| And the land of opportunity
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| Spawned a whole new breed of men without souls
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| This year, notoriety got all confused with fame
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| And the devil is downhearted
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| Because there’s nothing left for him to claim
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| He said «It's just like home
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| It’s so low-down, I can’t stand it I guess my work around here has all been done»
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| And the fruit is rotten
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| The serpent’s eyes shine
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| As he wraps around the vine
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| In the Garden of Allah |