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Buddy In The Parade

Hop Along

Painted Shut


I heard you were the king
You didn't leave behind a goddamn thing
Why did I look into the dim eye of the mole?
There was no silence there many voices spoke
Thinking I died I tried to listen
I saw one hundred saddles without horses, galloping

Get outta here, go home
That's what you used to play at shows

Sister, sister, sister
Watches the furniture go
She just didn't have the scratch
To keep you in that sorry hole

Money money, money
Don't let you sleep
Switching graves in the cemetery
They buried you so many times
Can't find your body

Get outta here, go home
That's what you used to play at the ends of shows

In the middle of the parade, you were frothing at the mouth
"Didn't he ramble 'til the butcher cut him down? "

Fool, all you touch on this turning dream
Is either gonna be burned or buried
All your jewelry goes around from town to town
All your pretty ones, I'm not gonna say where they are now

Get outta here, go home
That's what you used to play at the ends of shows

In the middle of the parade, you were frothing at the mouth
Children, turn on your radio and don't go out
Don't go out
Out

Don't go out
Don't

Compositor: Christine Frances Quinlan
ECAD: Obra #20686057

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