THE PRAY You're from out of town I can tell that by your shoes Flew in for the convention Getting tipsy in a bar You're leaving pretty late Gotta get up in the morning Thinking she's just too expensive And you know you're… Probably… Right There's no one on the streets And you can't find your hotel You walk a little faster — someone's following you The wallet-size bulge In your double-knit butt Has money for me And maybe credit cards You dart around the next corner You can't look around Quick now, fish for the keys for the door You don't even know where you are You walk a little faster I walk a little faster Sensing that I sense you Now there's no escape I can almost taste your dandruff As I reach for your face — And I strike.
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