| It’s 4 o’clock in the morning
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| We’re still putting the world to rights
|
| The whiskeys started talking
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| There’s a fire in your eyes
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| Conspiracy lies heavily
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| In every word you breath
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| Contencious bones — widely known Watering the seed
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| Be sure to send a postcard
|
| When you get there let me know
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| You know that I won’t stop you when you go
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| It’s 5 o’clock in the morning
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| And you’re glad to be alive
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| The booze has finished working
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| The world is on your side
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| It’s clear to see this tyranny
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| Is all some kind of plot
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| You secretly confide in me
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| Where’s there’s brass there’s muck
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| Be sure to send a postcard
|
| When you get there let me know
|
| You know that I won’t stop you when you go
|
| Be sure to send a postcard
|
| When you get there let me know
|
| I hope that you can make it on your own
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| It’s 6 o’clock in the morning
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| And there’s nowhere left to hide
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| Now we’ve seen the dawning
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| All that’s left is our goodbye
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| It’s hard to see the sanity
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| In what we call our lives
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| At times it seems that you just need
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| To follow what’s inside
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| Be sure to send a postcard
|
| When you get there let me know
|
| You know that I won’t stop you when you go
|
| Be sure to send a postcard
|
| When you get there let me know
|
| I hope that you can make it on your own
|
| Be sure to send a postcard
|
| When you get there let me know
|
| I hope that you can make it on your own |