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International Hotel
by
Billy Raffoul
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Ooh-ooh It’s half past nine on Thursday night and Paul has taken off He pulls down on the throttle and makes quick work of the Boss As nicotine, a sea of green, and patrons fill the lodge 4 lost souls in Ohio won’t make it to Woodstock A trip through time it’s 69’ the fire in his throat Has you wondering if he was the man they tied to the whipping post ‘Cause they don’t make 'em like this anymore With guts on the floor and a violent roar Goddamn the businessman don’t wanna make it at all Just wanna make last call at the international The International Hotel As Greasy runs the patrons hum and Bucky’s up to bat The kid from Howell begins to growl at unbreakable glass The boy named Tom, cried long Live Rock it’s never gone, gone, gone At capacity or with empty seats the show rambles on ‘Cause they don’t make 'em like this anymore His Guts on the floor and a violent roar Goddamn the businessman don’t wanna make it at all Just wanna make last call at the international International Hotel International Hotel
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