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Faifley had a black cloud around it
There was nobody there and someone had stole the chimneys
Fifteen dogs ran up the street
Looking for the hepatitis hospital
And a cat with a bread poultice was singing shangalang backwards

The sunday mail says woodys in japan now
I’d made it through partic, whiteinch, scotstoun and yoker
I was here same as everyone
No more fags, no more giro, no more petrol

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