| I’ll be seeing you
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| In all the old familiar places
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| That this heart of mine embraces
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| All day and through
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| In that small cafe
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| The park across the way
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| The children’s carousel
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| The chestnut trees, the wishing well
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| I’ll be seeing you
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| In every lovely summer’s day
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| In everything that’s light and gay
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| I’ll always think of you that way
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| I’ll find you in the morning sun
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| And when the night is new
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| I’ll be looking at the moon
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| But I’ll be seeing you
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| I’ll be seeing you
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| In every lovely summer’s day
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| In everything that’s light and gay
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| I’ll always think of you that way
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| I’ll find you in the morning sun
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| And when the night is new
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| I’ll be looking at the moon
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| But I’ll be seeing you
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| I’ve grown accustomed to her face
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| She almost makes the day begin
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| I’ve grown accustomed to the tune she whistles night and noon
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| Her smiles, her frowns, her ups and downs
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| Are second nature to me now
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| Like breathing out and breathing in
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| I was serenely independent and content before we met
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| Surely I could always be that way again and yet
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| I’ve grown accustomed to her looks, accustomed to her voice
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| Accustomed to her face
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| She’s second nature to me now
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| Like breathing out and breathing in
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| I’m very grateful she’s a woman and so easy to forget
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| Rather like a habit one can always break and yet
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| I’ve grown accustomed to the trace of something in the air
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| Accustomed to her face |