| He shoved me inside his government truck
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| The color of a bruise
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| He drove a country mile outside of town
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| Said get out boy, and that’s what I did do
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| I walked over to that sign;
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| It read the Old Service Road
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| He had his window up tight shut
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| When I asked «hey mister where does it go?»
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| He mouthed «you don’t, you don’t want, you don’t want to know
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| «You don’t want, you don’t want, you don’t want to know
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| «You don’t want, you don’t want, you don’t want to know
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| «Go down now, the Old Service Road.»
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| He left me with a tire iron, instructions
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| And a list of names
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| And I was left to guard that road
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| In that service I did remain
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| I stuck the list to the back-side of the sign
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| 'Cause that list it held the name of my brother
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| I used the iron as a baseball bat
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| And when the rocks hit the sign
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| It made the sound of forever
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| I thought to re-arrange the list
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| To knock them letters round
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| But the front still read the Old Service Road
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| And on the backside my brother’s name I still found
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| Well I don’t want, I don’t want, I don’t want to know
|
| I don’t want, I don’t want, I don’t want to know
|
| I don’t want, I don’t want, I don’t want to know
|
| Go down there, the Old Service Road
|
| A hand-built two-seater come down the service road;
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| The driver avoided my eyes
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| He was a mix-skin of Mexican descent
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| He opened the window shy
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| I tapped my iron 'gainst his metal car
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| I went giddy at the sound of forever
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| Un-shyly out the window leaped a dog
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| And to the dog I applied the traits of my brother
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| It slunk on over to the sign
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| Let loose and made the sign its own
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| I scanned the list for some sign of a dog
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| But there was now only my brother’s name alone
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| I scratched off his name, said goodbye Argos
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| And the dog went down the Old Service Road
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| Shyly out the window the Mexican said
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| (something mix-skin that don’t translate)
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| You don’t want, you don’t want, you don’t want to know
|
| You don’t want, you don’t want, you don’t want to know
|
| You don’t want, you don’t want, you don’t want to know
|
| Go down there, the Old Service Road
|
| You don’t want, you don’t want, you don’t want to know
|
| You don’t want, you don’t want, you don’t want to know
|
| You don’t want, you don’t want, you don’t want to know
|
| Go down there, the Old Service Road |