| Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord
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| He was driving down 14th Street in a '67 Ford
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| I said, «Hi, you won’t remember me
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| But we met some time ago»
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| And he said, «No, no, no, no, no
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| Don’t touch me, please just go away
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| No, no, no, no, no
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| Don’t talk to me, I’ve got nothing to say
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| To you
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| I have builded him an altar right above my stereo
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| With a couple of picks, a lock of hair, and an autographed photo
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| And I sing them every day
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| And he said, «No, no, no, no, no
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| Don’t touch me, please just go away
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| No, no, no, no, no
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| Don’t talk to me, I’ve got nothing to say
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| To you
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| I have read a fiery gospel 'bout his meteoric rise
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| Due to his performing miracles and the colour of his eyes
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| Well, I smoke his brand of cigarettes
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| And I wear his kind of clothes
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| And he said, «No, no, no, no, no
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| Don’t touch me, please just go away
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| No, no, no, no, no
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| Don’t talk to me, I’ve got nothing to say
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| To you |