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 Union Maid

 Adam Busch
 Eric Kufs
 Jordan Katz

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Transcribed by:

2005-06-20 (complete set ~ 35 MB)

There was blood on the tax report, fire in the hole
I could tell that you set it there just to see how much I could hold
To see if I dropped the ball, get thrown in the cold
Just to see if I'd never call and shut up and grow old
But even then I'd have to listen to all of these preachers in my path
I will be sifting through their sermons just to conquer the mass
Until I reach the top of the hill and look out on disbelieving eyes
Just to say I'd had my fill of all of the heavy breaths and sighs
But who am I to begin when there's never an end
Was it just for the sake of sin that you became my friend
and left me dangling there to blow in the wind
Well I'll be damned if this ever happens again

One day I'll be a dancer
One day I'll get in line

There was a man hummin' a tune shifting subway stares
And he conjured swear word gloom as the market traded shares
Your train pulled into its stop but you left without a care
Well for all you know he continued to curse everything you saw as fair
So then you wandered downtown to where you worked on time
but you can't kill him with your heart because he's etched in your mind
And it's a gamble now to go back and attempt to be kind
As if you didn't step on a crack everything would be alright
But that is the cross-hatch of a misconstrued mismatch
This is the misconception we so discreetly attach
I am the ball and you are the catch
And I caught you in all of your gall
But it was to late because you hatched

One day I'll be a dancer
One day I'll get in line

There was blood on the tax report and it dripped from your nose
I was careful not to let it get all over my clothes
You see it permanently stains, yep that's how it goes
But then what would be the portrait without the pose
You see it's all in those sad eyes that glare down upon my wrists
The blood flows over my hands to my fingertips
And we all pick so hard at those pimples 'round our lips
That we tend to forget that these models really do exist
So then what can be the answer to question of this breeding cancer
Well I'll tell you mine, I resolve to be a dancer
I'll strip down naked every Saturday night
And you'll pay me not to step on a crack and every thing will be alright

One day I'll be a dancer
One day I'll get in line
One day I'll bear this empty spotlight

Copyright BMI 2002


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