Who's that man, who's that man?
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Who told him that he could hold your hand?
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When I looked him in the eye he ran
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Who's that man, who's that man?
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Maryanne, who's that man?
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There's one thing that you should understand
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You know many things that go unsaid
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By the way one earns his daily bread.
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He's a lotus-eater, a plow-share beater,
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A rack-jobber and an old grave robber,
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A strip miner, a big headliner,
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A charge-card diner and he comes from Carolina.
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Maryanne, who's that man?
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Do you think he's doing all that he can?
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Can you tell me after all I've said
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That you'd leave me and take him instead?
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He's a gun-clubber, an eye-rubber
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A bum's rusher and a big ball-crusher
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A draft-boarder, a food-hoarder
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A strike-breaker and a heavy speed-taker.
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He's a black brother, an unwed mother
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A flag-waver and a rock and roll raver
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A hippie killer, an offshore driller
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The new messiah and a habitual liar.
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Who's That Man?
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Todd Rundgren |