| As he taxes a draw on the fifteenth floor
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| He can’t help cursing his luck
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| Life could have dealt him such a different hand
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| Maybe two across and twenty-three up
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| But there ain’t door on the thirty-eighth floor
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| No shortcut out of this dump
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| The nearer highrise comes closer to the skies
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| The temptation to actually jump
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| And it’s sadder, the leaving than left
|
| Sadder, the going than gone
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| Saddest of all is the person bereft
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| Of the chance to jump off or walk on
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| Falling from ladder, landing on dagger
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| A thousand and one ways to die
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| Better the brave and the early to grave
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| And damn those too frightened to try
|
| As he awaits the last score on the 25th floor
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| He looks down at the madness below
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| It’s always some Grimsby or Scunthorpe
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| Some place he ain’t been or won’t go
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| And as result comes in and his head goes down
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| Yet another week he’s gonna be stuck
|
| Where the betting slips rain like confetti
|
| Let down, thrown out or screwed up
|
| And it’s sadder, the leaving than left
|
| Sadder, the going than gone
|
| Saddest of all is the person bereft
|
| Of the chance to jump off or walk on
|
| Falling from ladder, landing on dagger
|
| A thousand and one ways to die
|
| Better the brave and the early to grave
|
| And damn those too frightened to try
|
| So we wish you good spaces in faraway places
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| Good luck in the folk that you meet
|
| Cause if you don’t travel, the dust and the gravel
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| Will swallow you up from your feet
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| This song that we give, please carry it with
|
| To remind you we long your return
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| Travel thee far and travel thee well
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| And bring back every lesson you learn
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| Travel thee far and travel thee well
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| And bring back every lesson you learn |