| The octopus has 3 hearts
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| And lives in caves below the sea
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| Or in a beer can or a bath tub
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| Or a puddle in the street
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| Any fisherman can tell you
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| When an octopus waves its arms
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| It hypnotizes stools of fish
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| All movement stops for miles
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| Even the waves stand still
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| All the witnesses have sworn
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| And it’s impossible to resist
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| The urge to jump overboard
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| That’s why I try and stay away
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| From seashore holidays
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| But I know that no one has to know
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| If I take an evening stroll
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| Down to the end of the wooden peer
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| Where the water’s deep and cold
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| If I should see an octopus
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| Lift its arms out of the sea
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| Or see its shadow rising up
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| Cross the rooftops above the streets
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| I’d follow those dancing limbs
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| To the spinning edge of the sky
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| Where all the boats fall off the world
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| Into the octopus’s eye
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| That’s why I know I shouldn’t go
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| On a cruise across the sea
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| But I know that no one has to know
|
| If I take an evening stroll
|
| Down to the end of the wooden peer
|
| Where the water’s deep and cold
|
| That’s why I try and stay away
|
| From seashore holidays
|
| But I know that no one has to know
|
| If I take an evening stroll
|
| Down to the end of the wooden peer
|
| Where the water’s deep and cold |