| I take off with the aeroplane
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| thinking 'bout yesterday
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| if it’s already part of the past
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| I rethink the promises made,
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| things I didn’t say
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| the stages we pass.
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| Cos it’s all 'bout a girl
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| Mine is a perfectly predictable world
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| She’s a New Yorker, and me, I’m on my way out of town
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| She’s a New Yorker, and me, I’m spread all around
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| In my hand there’s a sleeping pill,
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| rolled into a dollar bill
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| It’s got a name, but I cannot recall
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| In my mind theres an ongoing fight
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| between wrong and right
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| and the end isn’t happy at all,
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| so I ask for a drink
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| cos I think of unthinkable things
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| Like leaving New York without giving her the ring
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| She’s a New Yorker, to me, it’s the weirdest thing
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| When we’re alone we’re almost like children
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| so afraid to let go
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| when we’re apart I count the days by the sickened
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| then the telephone calls
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| There’s this ad in a magazine
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| revealing a one-night dream
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| it’s shines like the sun (Shines like the sun)
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| and I cannot but stare at this girl
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| cos her clothes are not on (oooh-oooh)
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| That’s except for her shoes (oooh-oooh)
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| It doesn’t look like she’s gonna move
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| She’s a New Yorker, and me, I’m spread all around
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| She’s a New Yorker, and me, seems I’m homewhere bound. |