| Well, you think you’re sitting pretty
|
| But you’re sitting on a powder keg.
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| Well, you think you’re standing steady
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| But you’re weak as a matchstick leg.
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| Well, there’s a rumble in the city,
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| There’s a call out for your head.
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| Now isn’t it a pity
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| Your future’s just a lump of lead.
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| But now you’re running scared, you’ve got no place to run;
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| You’re caught between the law and the Big Guns.
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| Well, it’s a long way from the pool halls,
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| Through the rackets and the petty crime.
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| Well, you thought you were a tough one
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| But you’ve bitten off too much this time.
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| You’ve stepped on the wrong toes,
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| Now look who you’ve upset.
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| You walked on the wrong toes,
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| You’ve got your picture on the police gazette.
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| Well, now you’re running scared, you’ve got no place to run;
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| You’re caught between the law and the Big Guns.
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| Your back is against a wall, you don’t like it there at all.
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| Now you’re too proud to fall, you got no friends you can call.
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| Well, you never felt so gritty,
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| The sweat’s pouring down your back.
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| You’re like a tiger in the jungle
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| And you can’t find your way back.
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| You hadn’t played your cards right,
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| You hadn’t seen the signs,
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| Well, you tried to run the whole game,
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| Now you’ve come to the end of the line.
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| Well, now you’re running scared, you’ve got no place to run;
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| Now you’re face to face with the Big Guns. |