| There was a knockin' at my door
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| It’s the dreaded landlord
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| He wants his rent and wants it now, he is careless how
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| He left us in a vacant daze, asking how we got here.
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| And we retired to slumber but, the glasses never were rinsed.
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| There was a tappin' on my back
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| It’s the dreaded foreman
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| I think I see a smile through his teeth and his cigar
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| He put my hands to work and said I’d otherwise do nothin'
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| And I made a thousand things today, I’m sure I’ll never use.
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| There was a ringin' on my phone
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| I picked it up to answer, they said they were my comrade.
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| But they couldn’t say my name
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| So I asked them about the sun and moon
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| And what their thoughts on time were
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| They hung it up in madness and went on to punch the clock
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| And somewhere there’s a sound of someone singing
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| I got an invitation once to liberty
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| They had a mischief brew but, no goblets were used
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| Besting rum or porter 'tis a liquor never brewed.
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| There was a knockin' at my door
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| It’s the dreaded policemen
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| He had a ticket to enter signed by fools of Sanford laws
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| And he questioned me on politics and scorned my generation
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| For not respecting elders and lands authority
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| When the landlord came to knock,
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| I said «Come back tomorrow
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| There’s more life I’ll be living than just slaving for your wage
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| And to the troop and foreman.
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| Make yourself the things I don’t use.
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| For I’m off into the forest for a liquor never brewed!»
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| And somewhere there’s a sound of someone singing
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| I got an invitation once to liberty
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| They had a mischief brew but, no goblets were used
|
| Besting rum or porter 'tis a liquor never brewed |