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Last night as I slept I dreamed I met with Behan
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I shook him by the hand and we passed the time of day
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When questioned on his views on the crux of life's philosophies
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He had but these few clear and simple words to say
I am going, I am going, Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going, Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I have cursed, bled and sworn, Jumped bail and landed up in jail
Life has often tried to stretch me, but the rope always was slack
And now that I've a pile, I'll go down to the Chelsea
I'll walk in on my feet, but I'll leave there on my back
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Oh the words that he spoke, seemed the wisest of philosophies
There's nothing ever gained by a wet thing called a tear
When the world is too dark and I need the light inside of me
I'll walk into a bar and drink fifteen pints of beer
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