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Sunday's Best

Sunday's Best

Looks Like A Mess

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Оригинален текст

Drank it up slowly
As I looked at the only
People in the room.
It's ok to admit that
You have been laughed at,
Said Mr. Deacon Blues.

Then some broken fool laughed
And hi-fived the bar back,
I'll have another round.
Raised it up to the ceiling, said
This one with feeling.
What's the matter with this town.

If I look like a mess. I must be a mess.

Kick snare and hi-hat,
Crushed cigarette pack,
2 is coming soon.
Kids on a wall plaque,
AYSO Champs, Summer 1992.

Good hands don't deserve this.
Maybe someday you'll learn kid that
Silence is a sound.
Raise it up to the ceiling,
Make this one with feeling.
We'll drink until we drown

Turning on and off and on.

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