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Black Francis
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Fitzgerald
作词:Charles Thompson
It's sad to see your art Hanging on the wall So many pictures there But yours the best of all
I like the Indian The one in ballpoint ink In ancient Massachusetts Long before you called
You traded him and many others For a drink Your fingers thick from hammers Well, it really makes you think And then my father Would fill your glass so tall
When I was a kid I gophered in your crew 更多更详尽歌词 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔镜歌词网 Always a kind word And you showed me what to do
And living hammered Well, it's always hit or miss But through your cigarette stained beard Your love rang true
And though you are so loved It had to come to this You got shut off Because you always stink of piss And now you drink someplace Where no one bothers you
Oh, Fitzy, oh, Fitzy Oh, Fitzy, oh, Fitzy Oh, Fitzy, oh, Fitzy
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