| Glue stuck to my shoes
|
| Does anyone know why you play with an orange rind?
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| You say you packed my things and divided what was mine
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| You’re off to the mountain top, I say, «Her skinny legs could use sun»
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| But now I’m wishing for my best impression of my best Angie Dickenson
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| But now I’ve got to worry
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| 'Cause boy you still look pretty
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| When you’re putting the damage on
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| Yes, when you’re putting the damage on
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| Don’t make me scratch on your door, I never left you for a banjo
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| I only just turned around for a poodle and a corvette
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| And my impression of my best Angie Dickenson
|
| But now I’ve got to worry
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| 'Cause boy you still look pretty
|
| When you’re putting the damage on
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| Pretty when you’re putting the damage on
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| I’m trying not to move
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| It’s just your ghost passing through
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| I said I’m trying not to move
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| It’s just your ghost passing through
|
| It’s just your ghost passing through
|
| And now I’m quite sure
|
| There’s a light in your platoon
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| I never seen a light move like yours can do to me
|
| So now I’m wishing for my best impression of my best Angie Dickenson
|
| But now I’ve got to worry
|
| 'Cause boy you still look pretty
|
| To me but I’ve got a place to go, I’ve got a ticket to your late show
|
| And now I’ve got to worry
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| 'Cause even still you sure are pretty
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| When you’re putting the damage on, yes
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| When you’re putting the damage on, you’re just so pretty
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| When you’re putting the damage on |