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Rash of Robberies

Solarium malaria lookin' for the stereo

Wanted to save being excommunicated from the area, it's okay

In the city said, he cut a cord of wood

No bigger than a thimble but still plenty good, it's okay'Cause it's just a bump on a rash of robberies

On account of the worlds economy that's makin' us sick

Go get the man who said he's on to me

He thinks we're in the kitchen with our sticksBut he don't know that Paris is burnin' down

You'd never know it in this town

The governor's walkin' around

Like he's got tricks for youCatch as Cassius never become the killin' machine

Run him over ruff shod 'til he bleeds army green out, so devout

To the saint that lost his seat he never seen

Semi-automatic rosary out devout'Cause it's just a bump on a rash of robberies

In a world too sad for Solomon we just sit

I'll watch your economy

I'll tell you when the police have it fixedSee Paris is burnin' down

You'd never know it in this town

The governor's walkin' around

Like he's got tricks for youSo take a minute to laugh it over

We'll make sure it's all true

Just like she said

Behind the barn last December eveBaby falls 40 feet caught by a street cleaner

Coming home from the union hall, he saw the fall, it's okay

JP Sousa found a radio, a radio

Sousa found a place to go, a radio in his head that saidIt's just a bump on a rash of robberies

An old sand lot anomaly that's savin' this day

In a world too sad for sodomy

We're just sitting in the kitchen with our strayBut Paris is burnin' down

The governors are walkin' around

We'll make sure

That they do right by youSo you think you might go to Beatrice

Even though the letter was never found

Maybe it will come tomorrow noonShe is askin' her fallen saint to

Please return her straitlaced fighter

Who don't know who she is

He don't know who she isWhere are you my sweet Desmond Doss?

Have you softly gone to winter?

Here I've brought you your 2 2 dollar bills backBut I'm not waitin' for sweet Eliza

She can have her watercolors back

I found them on last December eveYou look strangely quite so familiar

The way you talk of supper time

But I don't know who she is

Don't know who she isAnd you, you bring this beloved stranger

At the foot of this pile on Gideon's bed

She gave me a needlepoint motorbikeSo go and take this to sweet Eliza

It was written and gently given to

The courier pendin' arrival soonCould you hold me just one more older?

Then I'll go as your fallen fighter

Waitin' at the door, can't see you anymoreHere my dear a sweet Nostrovia

In a letter sent to December

I will wait for you to just humble me home

Songwriters

Charles Stokes UrmstonPublished by

AIN'T NO TRIP TO CLEVELAND MUSIC

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