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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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