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She thinks you don't know what she says about you |
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If your grass is green or your eyes are blue |
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Or a hundred other reasons she will scheme her little schemes |
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She put you where you are now in her dreams |
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And maybe she is blinded |
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By her own imaginings |
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But even when you're deafened |
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By all her whisperings |
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She'll still think she's silently pulling the strings |
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She's got a habit that she can't afford |
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Of telling you about the points that she's scored |
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Or maybe she just wants to give her little game away |
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But it's curious way to be spending the day |
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And maybe she is blinded |
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By her own imaginings |
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But even when you're deafened |
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By all her whisperings |
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She'll still think she's silently pulling the strings |