They're pickin' up pieces of me,
While they're pickin' up pieces of you.
In a bag you will be, before the day is over.
Were you looking for somewhere to be?
Or looking for someone to do?
Stupid me, to believe that I could trust in stupid you.
And on the back of my hand,
Were, directions I could understand.
Now that old buzzard Johnnie Walker,
Has gone and
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