Downed

Aimee Mann - Ballantines

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It must be hard ringing the bells

Of doors that don't swing wide anymore

It must be hard hearing the sound

Of voices just inside of the door

A man who couldn't hold your coat

Who's hung on ever antidote

So it must be hard watching the fellows gloat

Ballantines

It must be hard seeing the same old crowd

Just pass you by in the street

It must be tough knowing your stuff

Could only horrify the elite

You cut off everyone you know

Boy you told `em all where to go

Now it must be hard getting the same revoke

Well, patrons at the bar in Lexington Kentucky

Who sprung for every drink you downed

With things the way they are it's not that kind of party

If what you've got might just be good (?)

The fat cows won't be getting thin

Seeing the kind of jam you're in

Though the angels dance on the head of another pin

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