Showtime
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Hang a guitar on my shoulder
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Check the vacant drooling faces round the room
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Another heartbreak battle
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And I'm only getting older
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Jesus help me when I say I'll give it all up pretty soon
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Daytime
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Time to fight the morning's headache
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Gulp an aspirin bang together one more song
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Inspiration cauterised
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By years of useeless heartache
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Every shallow nights reaction sounding twisted up and wrong
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These last years
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Years gone down to the showtime
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Showtime
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Try to catch the spark
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That got me hooked so many years ago and died
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Second-rate musicians
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Feeding infantile illusions
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Reading music magazines to keep the habit satisfied
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Pitching
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To some demographic average
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What the hell he's staying home for, I don't see him here tonight
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Thirteen years and over
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Tuned to radio between the hours
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Of six and seven-thirty, AM programmer's delight
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These last years
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Years gone down to the showtime
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I never knew it could be
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So misleading
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Waiting for the final song to end
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In this dirty nightclub
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All the souls are bleeding
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Reaching for the big decision
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Disco floor or television
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Time and time again
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You hear the so-called friends
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The smug de-facto critics in their movie backdrop cities
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Sneering sitdown and listen
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Life's a lonely escalator
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It's a fool who doesn't know he has to leap off at the end
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Well they were never at the guesthouse
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With the ghost of Jimmy Rodgers
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Watching Townsville sugar sunsets back in 1959
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And they'll all be gone when the end is come
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And I'm kneeling in the backroom
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Crying Lord I'm just a trouper, let me play it one more time
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Showtime
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Cold Chisel |