| The film was a bust, but we stayed to the ending
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| Hair all a mussed but your clothes didn’t look so bad
|
| And back on the street, the rain was descending
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| In cold dirty sheets, so under the awning we sat
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| And then you hailed yourself a yellow cab
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| And I sat for a time by the valets in line
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| And I read what you wrote on the card
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| Above a cowboy you drew a big talk balloon
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| saying «try not to take it so hard»
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| but there’s this nagging suspicion that won’t leave me alone tonight
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| its just that everything I try to do, nothing seems to turn out right
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| We laid on our backs and stared at the ceiling
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| Messed with your slacks, but ended up just holding your hand
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| The rain will remain, the tv was telling
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| a drip of the drain as your legs lifted brilliantly bent
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| and fall to resting on the ottoman
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| So we turned off the tube and we crawled to your room
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| leaving discarded clothes in our wake
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| and we both had some fun, though I twice bit my tongue
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| and it lasted too long for my taste
|
| and there’s this nagging suspicion that won’t leave me alone tonight
|
| its just that everything I try to do, nothing seems to turn out right
|
| and there’s this nagging suspicion that won’t leave me alone tonight
|
| its just that everything I try to do, nothing seems to turn out right
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| A wink and a wave and your off to your family’s
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| I sit and watch as the taxis lights distantly fade
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| I guess I always thought it’d end this way |