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Cold
Lyrics: Chuck Baker
Music: Pete Arbour

You're gonna like it, you're gonna like it, just do as you're told.
You best grab your coat and button it up, cause I feel it's getting cold.

Yeah he's my friend, and he's got a story
About how his John Thomas turned to gold.

We've all been pushed and primped and punched
And pinched and poked, we've been paid to be polled.

He loves her, until her diamonds turn back to coal.
By the time his blindness turns to sight, the young man he will be old.

You know what it'll get you? It's the smell of the sweat
And the stench of the breath when we're all crammed into this mold

We've rocked and we've rolled

Every year at this time I send him a card of silver and gold

And I sign it the same without signing my name
Grab your coat and button it up, I feel it's getting cold

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