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When the iceberg hit,
Oh they must have known,
God moves on the water
Like Casey Jones.
So I walked downtown
On my telephone,
And took a lazy turn
Through the redeye zone.
It was a five-band bill,
A two-dollar show.
I saw the van out in front
From Idaho,
And the girl passed out
In the backseat trash.
There were no way they'd make
Even a half a tank of gas.
They looked sick and stoned
And strangely dressed.
No one showed
From the local press.
But I watched them walk
Through the bottom land,
And I wished that I played
In a rock & roll band.
Hey, hey,
It was the fourteenth day of April.
Well they closed it down,
With the sails in rags.
And I swept up the fags
And the local mags.
I threw the plastic cups
In the plastic bags,
And the cooks cleaned the kitchen
With the staggers and the jags.
Ruination day,
And the sky was red.
I went back to work,
And back to bed.
And the iceberg broke,
And the Okies fled,
And the Great Emancipator
Took a bullet in the back of the head...
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