He finds a gun, to serve his grief
He finds a hole, and buries it deep
And the service industry has been killing him for several years
He finds his heart, somewhere 'neath
He tags along, and picks up steam
And all that you take for him, is oh so queer
They say some people, spend sometime alone
It takes a heart, that it never needs
Flipped right from the start, it always bleeds
And the ashtray is still filled with souvenirs
They say some people, spend sometime alone
They say some people, spend sometime alone
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