| I thought I’d start this simple song
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| with something you could sing along
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| like «Na na na na na na.»
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| But then I felt a bit cliche-
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| I started Beaten Path that way-
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| and besides, it didn’t get me very far
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| I guess the well is running dry.
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| (I'm not surprised)
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| It’s been thirteen years of lies.
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| Running at the mouth about
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| these lovers I can’t live without,
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| well, I’m not exactly huntin' 'em down
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| Down and out and overweight —
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| under the influence of three years straight
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| drinking on the job.
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| If it’s not some love affair
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| then it’s a song about the great despair
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| of the loner at the end of the bar.
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| Well, you are what you are
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| You are what your are,
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| you are, you are,
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| you do, you do —
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| «Na na na na na na»
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| A hundredth verse
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| same as the first,
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| I’m a dictaphone of drunken slurs,
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| press rewind — it’s a new album.
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| «Hot off the press,
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| hey, but this guy sounds depressed
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| (again)!»
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| So, you can never drop this drunken bit
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| or the fits of pain you still stomach —
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| it’s for the love of the song
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| Oh yeah, the song
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| I thought it was supposed to be a sing along.
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| (yesterday came and went
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| and i wasn’t present
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| the weeks were laid out like pavement
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| work and drink and sleep, repeat)
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| Oh, for the love of the song
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| (upon the beaten path
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| i kept on my blinders…
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| don’t need any old reminders
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| no face, no name, no memories
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| if you love it, you leave it cause you hate that you need it it’s one thing that you can’t have
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| you’re too self-absorbed to change
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| always, «my way») |