| Your simple songs, small creations
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| Always needing validation
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| Your pouty face, your great photos
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| Without them, baby, who would notice
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| We met once, we were alone
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| Backstage in Dallas
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| Got your phone number
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| What a good kisser
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| I left for Tempe and I missed her
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| But on stage you aren’t strong
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| I don’t recall any songs
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| But when you sang, you hit the notes
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| I’ll give you that, you didn’t choke
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| And you looked so good
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| Like an actress from Hollywood
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| And your eyes, they would glisten
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| But no one listened
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| And one day you’ll be forty
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| And trust me, babe, it ain’t sporty
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| You’ll be pleased to be reviewed
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| Cause there’s always new
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| Someone young, press-friendly
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| You’ll be searching
|
| Travel hard, 'round the globe
|
| But does anyone know
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| The moderately talented old woman
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| Dreams that she once had
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| You’re a dream, a burning star
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| The way you sing and play guitar
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| The way your words cut through
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| You cast a spell on the room
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| But your eyes are fog
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| And in your heart, many scars
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| Lost friends, ex-lovers
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| Hidden dads, buried mothers
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| I could only love you like a friend, dark soldier
|
| Cause I got someone else, and you’re older
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| I didn’t mean to go along, but God I love your songs
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| What a night, what a moment, but don’t read it wrong
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| The moderately talented young woman
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| The exceptionally talented old man
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| The moderately talented young woman
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| The exceptionally talented old man |