Sitting in a square room
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My voice is freezing
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And the beams that are bouncing off the moon
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Are hanging from my window like icicles
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Just a tired old alcoholic, waxing bucolic
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Shivering and homesick
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Staring at a wooden floor
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Staring at a wooden floor
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Last night I nearly killed myself
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Chasing rum with rum
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There were crows flying all around my head
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And I sure caught and ate me some
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Funny how I alienated
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Those who I was trying just so, so hard to impress
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Now half those fuckers hate me
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And I'm just a fool to all the rest
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Why do I insist on drinking myself to the grave?
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Why do I dream about cozy coffin?
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I had all these plans of great things to accomplish
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But I end up purely pathetic more than often
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Sitting in a square room
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My voice is freezing
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Square Room
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Cowboy Junkies |