If you're looking for the glory
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You think that you might find
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In a bullet-riddled stolen car
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On a back road in the pines
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If it's round just like a medal
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On a tired old man of war
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Or hidden like that Burma Star
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In my dad's bottom drawer
|
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Look at you in your monkey suit
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Driving south, nothing left to prove
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You come back here in your cowboy boots
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Dressed to kill in your monkey suit
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Every pose you strike, every frame they shoot
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Shows you dressed to kill in your monkey suit
|
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Build your ladder to the moon
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Beat on that sacred drum
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Trample on the hands of those
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That cling to every rung
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Every seed you crush beneath
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Like stone ground in a mill
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You never drew a decent breath
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But you're just dressed to kill
|
|
Look at you in your monkey suit
|
Driving south, nothing left to prove
|
You come back here in your cowboy boots
|
Dressed to kill in your monkey suit
|
Every pose you strike, every frame they shoot
|
Shows you dressed to kill in your monkey suit
|
|
Look at you in your monkey suit
|
Driving south, nothing left to prove
|
You come back here in your cowboy boots
|
Dressed to kill in your monkey suit
|
Every pose you strike, every frame they shoot
|
Shows you dressed to kill in your monkey suit
|
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Monkey Suit
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Leon Russell |