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A pound of flesh, warm or cold
Both are bought, both are sold
There’s dirt on my hands, I’ll say that’s true
But a poor man does what a poor man do

And the dead, the dead don’t mind and
The dead bring in some gold
So the dead are what I’ll find or…
…I’ll make my own

I’m a humble man you’d overlook
But a favor done, and you’re in my book
Just one thing, when that debt is paid
Is yours to guess, and mine to say

And the dead, the dead don’t mind and
The dead bring in some gold
So the dead are what I’ll find or…
…I’ll make my own

And the dead, the dead don’t mind and
The dead do what they’re told
So the dead are what I’ll find or…
…I’ll make my own

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