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By The Nits, (Hofstede)Young red guards will fight the waves on yellow riverThere
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By The Nits, (Hofstede/Kloet/Stips - Hofstede)We're sailing on an oceanOn an oceanAnd the
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By The Nits, (Hofstede)She was always thinkingThat the others were the losersAnd that
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By The Nits, (Nits)So many yearsAnd the river flows downSo manyIt is hard
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By The Nits, (Peters)She was a chanceless contender in the Deborah HarryLook alike
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By The Nits, (Peters)No one can harm meThis is my armyNo one can
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By The Nits, (Nits)On Saint Louis AvenueThere's something in the airMy heart beats
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By The Nits, (Peters)Saragossa mating seasonGot to go to-dayIt's my nature versus reasonSomehow
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By The Nits, (Hofstede)Oh I'm undecidedWhat I'm going to do nowHave to think
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By The Nits, (Hofstede/Stips)The streets of Barcelona are filled with blood and rainThe
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By The Nits, (Hofstede)Beware of the slip of the tongueDon't say nothingWhen the
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By The Nits, (Nits)I saw a box in New YorkInside the MOMAClay pipe
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By The Nits, (Peters)The evening has come to an endAlthough we were very
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By The Nits, She does not even warn meOr tells me she's coming
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By The Nits, (Peters)Shake your rattle fly your kiteThere's evil in the darkSpirits
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By The Nits, (Stips)Down in the airshaftOf the old hotelDoors on both sidesOf
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By The Nits, (Peters)He doesn't talk muchHe doesn't move about eitherNo one likes
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By The Nits, (Hofstede)Right behind her in revolving doorsIn the window of a
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By The Nits, (Peters)Tables and chairsDo not like one anotherThey bite in each
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By The Nits, (Hofstede)Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday's goneFriday Saturday Sunday is no funMr
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By The Nits, (Hofstede)He spent his nightsOn camping sitesCan this sun tanMake him
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By The Nits, (Hofstede/Kloet/Stips - Hofstede)Suddenly you came to see meAfter all those
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By The Nits, (Peters)Looking out my windowLooking at this dirty part of townLooking
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By The Nits, (Hofstede/Kloet/Stips - Hofstede)I met herIn a shopDowntownShe was buying a
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By The Nits, (Hofstede/Kloet/Stips - Hofstede)I spent some time aloneIn an old country
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By The Nits, (Hofstede)He likes the cold winter nightsAnd the dark afternoonsThe lodgerWhen
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By The Nits, (Hofstede/Kloet/Stips - Hofstede)Oh when, when will I see youOh when,
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By The Nits, (Hofstede/Kloet/Stips - Hofstede)Once on a cold grey morningI was walking
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By The Nits, (Hofstede)Your picture on a wallI can see itIt's too smallYour
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By The Nits, (Hofstede)Hands upHe saidIf you move a little bit you're deadI