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John Velghe & The Prodigal Sons
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The Occupier
You put the dents in all my old leather soles You knocked me back in sweet repose You let me in and showed me how your old coats Covered tattoos that opened wounds
Make your heart frail So I can be its occupier If I fail I can't help you make it whole again
I love the neck I love the fret I love the fall Of each and every minor chord These hands were meant for telling three-minute lies They're just too weak to hold a life
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