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I was talkin` to the judge just before we left the countryside, paper in his hand, tryin` to find a way. Goin` by the book, "Man, you oughtta make a serial." Ripped the pages out `fore they pull the final curtain down. I remember the day just like the Drumshanbo hustle. We couldn`t hear no birds, they were makin` not a sound. They were tryin` to muscle in, an easy way to bring the money in. You were pukin` up your guts when you read the contract had been signed.
Prostitution on the run, `ceptin what it was last night. Tryin` to drain you dry, couldn`t get too much rope. Tryin` to take `em down just to see how far it all would go. Wasn`t goin` very far and she didn`t let it bring you down.
Just remember the day, just like the Drumshanbo hustle. I couldn`t hear no birds, they were makin` not a sound. They were drivin` motionless on the recording and the publishing. You were pukin` up your guts when you read the contract had been signed.
New York hooker style, and the tarot and astronomy. Tell you every star, didn`t even get your sign. Well they were lookin` for a scam, a little paperback novel or a little magazine, but you left it all behind when you pulled the rug from underneath her feet.
Just rememberin` the day, Drumshanbo hustle. Well you couldn`t hear no birds, they were makin` not a sound. They were tryin` to muscle in, an easy way to bring the money in. You were pukin` up your guts when you read the actual contract had been signed. You were pukin` up your guts when you heard the contract had you signed. You were pukin` up your guts when you heard the contract, the contract, had you signed.
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