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there's a tall, a mulatto, boy I know |
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and he comes to every party -- he stands alone |
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viewing them the rest, from the corner of his glance |
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it gets so clear, he's not judging anyone |
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the way his arms float around his cage, he's caged |
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canary sings, silently rings, his voice to rage |
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the way they stop and stare, the way they turn their heads |
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it's enough to make him want to run away |
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but he stays he stands his ground |
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and I'm so lame |
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the way I condescend without ever knowing his name |
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he keeps it in a box, hangs it from his ear |
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looks at everyone without the slightest fear |
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it's making me so ashamed |
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slender body, slip through his glance |
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I don't give him a single chance |
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the way he's rocking back and forth |
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makes a buzzing in my ear |
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constantly reminding me that I never stop to hear |
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him say hello, hello |
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and I'm so lame |
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like a moth bumping off his godless flame |
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I cannot condescend or even apprehend, what comes over me |
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when I see his shameless face |
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so rage, please rage, against me |
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beat me down, beat me down, forgive me |
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for what I've done, I'm so lame, I'm so lame, I'm so lame |
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so lame, so lame, so lame |