Hell no this ain't me this is a street corner in a story Brooklyn New York in a story Seven generations I've never sat at the bar Hell no there's no other magic but beer whiskey gin vodka drink the stubborn and howl harder Stone and go home Hell no I can't forgive a 50-year-old bald, fat, mediocre, either, but I'm just the same, lugging a little luggage on a muddy road when it's sunny and rainy, Hell no, it's not as good as you think an antique jukebox Loose chairs News that accompany the floor Tooth monsters Sickness Mean ghosts who walk up the stairs All become selfish parents Rebellious brothers Missing lovers Hell no I can't complain about my problems I'm OK the way things are I pull my stool up to the bar At Horace and Pete's
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