For The Maudlin

Withered Hand

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    Maybe the world would be better without me
    I got a bad habit of fucking up
    When every sunrise I see takes the piss out of me
    And there's cold tea in our loving cup

    I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best
    I mean it's heavy, but it's not heavy rock
    And now I'm feeling depressed sitting here in my vest
    It's like we're born with our heads on the block

    And this song is for the strugglers
    It's for the cynics and the maudlin
    And this song is for the poor boy
    I won't be there in the morning

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    Oh don't give up, don't give up on us
    And sure these are degenerate times
    You don't have to be some kind of guru
    Just chuck something together as long as it rhymes
    And I hope that is means something to you

    And if I suck in my cheeks when I'm with you
    And if I wear too much soap in my hair
    Pull on your kitten heel shoes
    We've got dancing to do
    Pulling teeth from the jaws of despair

    Cos this song is for the strugglers
    It's for the cynics and the maudlin
    This song is for the poor boy
    I won't be there in the morning

    And this song is for the strugglers
    It's for the cynics and the maudlin
    And this song is for the poor boy
    I won't be there in the morning
    No, I'll be asleep on an overnight bus

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