twelve men broke loose in seventy-three from millhaven maximum security twelve pictures lined up across the front page
seems the mounties had a summertime war to wage the chief told the people they had nothing to fear said, "the last thing they
wanna do, is hang around here" they mostly came from towns with long french names but one of the dozen was a hometown
shame
same pattern on the table same clock on the wall been one seat empty, eighteen years in all freezing slow time, away from the
world he's 38 years old, never kissed a girl
we were sitting round the table, heard the telephone ring father said he'd tell em if he saw anything heard the tap on my
window in the middle of the night held back the curtains for my older brother mike
see my sister got raped, so a man got killed local boy went to prison, man's buried on the hill folks went back to normal when
they closed the case but they still stare at their shoes when they pass our place
my mother cried, "the horror has finally ceased!" he whispered, "yeah, for the time being at least" over her shoulder, on the
squad car megaphone said, "let's go michael, son, we're taking you home"
chorusBroken record, broken record
Sunny day at the oasis
As the roasted take their places
And the undertaker mumbles
"You're screwing it wrong..."
"You're screwing it wrong..."
Like a broken record, broken record
Like a broken record, broken record
Like a broken record, broken record
Like a broken record, broken record
Sir Repetitious:
What a beauty to be needled
The new position's looking fetal
So take a letter, sayonara
We're putting you on, like a...
Broken record, broken record
Like a broken record, broken record
Like a broken record, broken record
Like a broken record, broken record, broken record