| We were drinking Colorado Bulldogs
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| When inspiration struck
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| And we knew it was high time
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| For us to change our own luck
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| We cracked a couple Coca Colas open
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| Mixed em up with vodka and some coffee liqueur
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| Poured in some cold milk, raised our glasses high to old friends
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| My love for you is ninety-eight percent pure
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| But the two percent that remains
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| Has fried the circuits in my brain
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| I got out my smoking jacket
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| You put on some fishnets, and your smart black beret
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| We cut quite a figure in the mirror
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| And then we were on our way
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| Oh would that you would kiss me
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| With the kisses of your mouth
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| 'Cause your mouth is sweeter than wine, and has
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| A more complicated history than the American South
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| As the evening took us in
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| You could have popped the tension with a safety pin
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| We went down to Pete Brown’s Chevrolet
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| Cause Pete Brown can satisfy all your new car needs
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| We were nicely oiled by then
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| Our internal transponders picking up satellite feeds
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| From well worn ancient places
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| Our eager young sales rep handed us the keys
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| We drove about three-quarters of a mile
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| All that’s left for us now are moments like these
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| We parked behind the high school, away from the light
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| And the flames climbed high into the night |