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    Outta town girls, they all just want a chance to see the cityscape, lead a looser game with
    All the town boys, they all just want a chance with 'em, I understand you can
    Bet your bare bones, she'll be coming back for more
    And what for? Should've called, should've wrote, leave a note for her before you close that door
    For some closure, you know she told ya she loves the way you speak
    To her in the margins of a postcard she keeps from you

    Where are the marks of your failed arts? Have your daydreams been keeping you clean?
    You never say what you need to make me believe you're the one that means it
    I hope it ain't you, I hope it ain't you to let me down, don't fail me now I'm running thin
    And I've just begun to wonder when you'll let me in, in, in, in, in

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    I've got Jesus in my eye, and the Devil in the corner making rye whiskey and gin
    Don't you say that ain't him, you should've seen him when he came in
    He said: The Yankees played today, they played, but in the eighth the Sox, they clutched the game
    At least the Mets are getting laid, yea, that's what they say
    Bet your bare bones, everybody everywhere is coming to your party
    Man I heard this was the place to be, not a lot that you can't get for free here

    Where are the scars of your failed arts? Have your daydreams been keeping you clean? (No!)
    You never say what you need to make me believe you're the one that means it
    I hope it ain't you, I hope it ain't you to let me down, don't fail me now I'm running thin
    And I've just begun to wonder when you'll let me in, in, in, in, in

    Song details

    Composition: Sam Melo

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