| My grandma told my mama, «This boy gonna be the one
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| Gonna have a fast left hand, same as the Seventh Son»
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| And then she lit a candle and set it on a rabbit’s skull
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| She touched a nine volt battery to a wad of steel wool
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| There’s a fire, there’s a fire
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| There’s a fire burning all the time
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| There’s a fire, there’s a fire
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| There’s a fire burning all the time
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| I was raised with the Pentecostal, believing the world was true
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| When I was thirteen I got a Flat Top Kalamazoo
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| Ghosts started howling, lightening lit up the dark
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| Smelled like singed hair when it ignited Joan of Ark
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| There’s a fire, there’s a fire
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| There’s a fire burning all the time
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| There’s a fire, there’s a fire
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| There’s a fire burning all the time
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| It’s a dimes worth of blues and a left hand with speed
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| This woman, yellow jacket’s clothes, feathers and flower seeds
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| There’s a storm a-coming, I don’t need a lightening rod
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| And I won’t be pushed around bound to mediocre gods
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| I always bless my food, even if it’s shredded wheat
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| I don’t always see the light, but I sure enough feel the heat
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| There’s a fire, there’s a fire
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| There’s a fire burning all the time
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| There’s a fire, there’s a fire
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| There’s a fire burning all the time
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| There’s a fire, oh, there’s a fire
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| There’s a fire burning all the time
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| Oh, there’s a fire, oh, there’s a fire
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| There’s a fire burning all the time
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| Ooh |