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My computer thinks I'm gay |
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I threw that piece of junk |
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away on the champs-Elysees |
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as I was walking home. |
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this is m last communique |
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down the supper highway all |
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that I have left to say in |
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a single tome. |
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I got too many friends too |
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many people that I'll never |
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meet and I'll never be there |
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for I'll never be there for |
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cause I'll never be there. |
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If I could give it all away |
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will it come back to me |
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someday like a needle in the |
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hay or an expensive stone. |
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But I got a reson to declaim |
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the applications are to blame |
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for all my sorrow an my pain |
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a feeling so alone. |
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I got too many friends too |
|
many people that I'll never |
|
meet and I'll never be there |
|
for I'll never be there for |
|
cause I'll never be there. |
|
My computer thinks I'm gay |
|
I threw that piece of junk |
|
away on the champs-Elysees |
|
as I was walking home. |
|
I got too many friends too |
|
many people that I'll never |
|
meet and I'll never be there |
|
for I'll never be there for |
|
cause I'll never be there |