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Bad lovers face to face in the morning |
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Shy apologies and polite regrets |
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Slow dances that left no warning of |
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Outraged glances and indiscreet yawning |
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Good manners and bad breath get you nowhere |
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Even presidents have newspaper lovers |
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Ministers go crawling under covers |
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She's no angel |
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He's no saint |
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They're all covered up with white washed grease paint |
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And you say... |
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[Chorus:] |
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The teacher never told you anything but white lies |
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But you never see the lies |
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And you believe |
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Oh you know you have been captured |
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You feel so civilized |
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And you look so pretty in your new lace sleeves |
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|
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The salty lips of the socialite sisters |
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With their continental fingers that have |
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never seen working blisters |
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Oh I know they've got their problems |
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I wish I was one of them |
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They say daddy's coming home soon |
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With his sergeant stripes and his Empire mug and spoon |
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|
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No more fast buck |
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And when are they gonna learn their lesson |
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When are they gonna stop all of these victory processions |
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And you say... |
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|
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[Chorus] |