| Well, I used to drive a cab,
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| you know
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| I heard a siren scream
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| Pulled over to the corner
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| And I fell into a dream
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| There were
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| two men eating pennies
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| And three young girls who cried
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| The West coast is falling,
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| I see rocks in the sky.
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| The preacher took his bible
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| And laid it on the stool.
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| He said: with
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| the congregation running,
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| Why should I play the fool?
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| Well, I used to be a woman,
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| you know
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| I took you for a ride,
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| I let you fly my airplane
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| It looked good for your pride.
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| 'Cause you’re
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| the kind of man you know
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| Who likes what he says.
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| I wonder what’s it’s like
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| To be so far over my head.
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| Well, the lady made the wedding
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| And she brought along the ring.
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| She got down on her knees
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| And said: Let’s
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| get on with this thing.
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| Well, I used to be a folk singer
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| Keeping managers alive,
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| When you saw me on a corner
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| And told me I was jive.
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| So I unlocked your mind, you know
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| To see what I could see.
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| If you guarantee the postage,
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| I’ll mail you back the key.
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| Well I woke up in the morning
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| With an arrow through my nose
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| There was an Indian in the corner
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| Tryin' on my clothes.
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| Well, I used to be asleep
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| you know
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| With blankets on my bed.
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| I stayed there for a while
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| 'Til they discovered I was dead.
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| The coroner was friendly
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| And I liked him quite a lot.
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| If I hadn’t 've been a woman
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| I guess I’d never have been caught.
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| They gave me back my house and car
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| And nothing more was said.
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| Well, I was driving
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| down the freeway
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| When my car ran out of gas.
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| Pulled over to the station
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| But I was afraid to ask.
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| The servicemen were yellow
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| And the gasoline was green.
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| Although I knew I couldn’t
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| I thought that I was gonna scream.
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| That was on my last trip to Tulsa
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| Just before the snow.
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| If you ever need a ride there,
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| Be sure to let me know.
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| I was chopping down a palm tree
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| When a friend dropped by to ask
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| If I would feel less lonely
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| If he helped me swing the axe.
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| I said: No, it’s
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| not a case of being lonely
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| We have here,
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| I’ve been working on this palm tree
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| For eighty seven years
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| I said: No, it’s
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| not a case of being lonely
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| We have here,
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| I’ve been working on this palm tree
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| For eighty seven years
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| He said: Go get lost!
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| And walked towards his Cadillac.
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| I chopped down the palm tree
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| And it landed on his back. |