Oh, how I love to go to the market, to see her once again.
Oh, how I love to go to the market, to see her once again.
She smells of angels an' roses, and I of tobacco an' gin.
So I wake up early an' go to the store, every Sunday 'bout seven.
So I wake up early an' go to the store, every Sunday 'bout seven.
Most people goin' to church 'round then, but I go to the market for heaven.
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You have to sing it out loud like a blues song or else it just won't work...
I will explain this one later after everyone has a chance to try and get meaning out of it.
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