There's a place on Figueroa Street,
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Where you can always go
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Smiling faces you might meet,
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Whoa-oa-oa, All Hail,
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The Sportsman Bar
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Whoa-oa-oa, All Hail,
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The Sportsman Bar
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The trophies on the mantel
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Are covered with dust,
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And the pretzels are from 1982
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The soda from the bar
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Tastes just like rust,
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Nobody cares! All Hail
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The Sportsman Bar
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Whoa-oa-oa, All Hail,
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The Sportsman Bar
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There's Mike Green,
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He's fallen to his knees,
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He's mumbling 'bout the
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State Street rock and roll
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They took away the booths,
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But unless they take the roof
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We will see you again here tomorrow!
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Say a prayer for friends
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Who passed away,
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Say a prayer for the lurkers
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And the losers
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And to all you bastards
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That moved out of town,
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We'll see you at Thanksgiving
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At the Sportsman Bar
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Whoa-oa-oa, All Hail,
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The Sportsman Bar
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Ned's our man,
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With his Pabst Blue Ribbon can,
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Uh-oh, he's looking for a fight!
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He'll punch you in the face,
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But it's your kind of place
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So we'll see you again here tomorrow!
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Everybody's drunk! Everybody's drunk!
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Whoa-oa-oa, All Hail, The Sportsman Bar
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The Sportsman Bar
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Nerf Herder |