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    "Lucky [1995 Studio Re-recording]" Lyrics


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    He met the world as a Dalmatian boy
    Raised from a shaft at Moncton Hall
    In a well oiled cage
    That locked away his dreams
    An '85 veteran face from the gallery
    A ghost from the civil war in the family
    He stood his ground on the picket line
    'Til all that he was left with
    Were his father's cough
    And his mother's eyes
    That would hold a tear
    For the very first time
    When the government took his job away
    Now fist in hand he'll stand in line
    Declare his name and mark his time
    To some the only proof that they're alive

    He could have been you
    He could have been me
    He could have been anybody
    But he was born lucky

    He made his first down payment
    On a sharp Italian suit
    He sewed razor blades into the lapels
    See him sweating on the dance floor
    Cool dust oozing out of every pore
    A hard man with a hard life
    And that's a story that he'll tell you
    Down at Easter Road till his throat is raw
    On a Saturday, he knows the score
    Till the whistle blows and
    The colors with their tempers fade away

    He could have been you
    He could have been me
    He could have been anybody
    But he was born lucky

    On the helipads at Aberdeen
    Bound for platforms drilling oil rich seas
    Where the trawlers are getting fewer every year
    By the furnaces at Ravenscraig
    By the padlocks holding John Brown's gates
    In the desert, in the fields of South Armagh
    Where the poppies grow
    Behind the Hampden roar
    Behind the drums in Genoa
    On the deck that rides a South Atlantic swell
    Born to fight out of the tightest corner
    You can bet on him with the odds against you
    They'll not put him down
    No matter how they try
    This song was submitted on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC.
    Written by Luke Dick, Kevin Griffin, Charlie Worsham.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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