| Well, I could sit here and I could think
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| 'Bout the things that I ain’t got
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| So don’t mind me if I hesitate
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| Tell you the truth, it ain’t a lot
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| And I might come in here with a pocket full of money
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| And I might leave here with a dime in my pocket
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| But either way that don’t make me happy
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| And all I have is this picture in a locket
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| So I go down street to the 5th Avenue Bar
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| I go over a man who’s lighting up his cheap cigars
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| And I ask him if it’s gonna get any better
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| He says, «No», well, he says, «No»
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| There’s a young man behind the bar who take the bottle
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| «Here's how you let go, here’s how you let go»
|
| Well, I could sit here and occupy
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| For your love to be as strong as mine
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| But instead I keep the peace
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| Sit here alone, sitting in my grief
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| And I could go somewhere and burn this lonely picture
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| Even in my head I know I’d still remember
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| Walking down the street, in my wallet there’s a 50
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| And I drop it down at the place where we feel empty
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| Yeah, I’m down street at the 5th Avenue Bar
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| Talking to the man who’s lighting up his cheap cigars
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| And I ask him if it’s gonna get any better
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| He says, «For me it didn’t, for me it didn’t»
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| There’s a young man behind the bar who take the bottle
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| «Yeah, this’ll fix it», he says, «This'll fix it»
|
| Well, I woke up in the morning
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| And the world was white as snow
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| Is it heaven or hell, which place to hide low |