| I don’t care if there’s powder on my nose
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| I don’t care if my hairdo is in place
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| I’ve lost the very meaning of repose
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| I never put a mudpack on my face
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| Oh, who’d have thought that I’d walk in a daze
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| Now I never go to shows at night but just to matinees
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| Now I see the show
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| And home I go
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| Once I laughed when I heard you saying
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| That I’d be playing solitaire
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| Uneasy in my easy chair
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| It never entered my mind
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| Once you told me I was mistaken
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| That I’d awaken with the sun
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| And order orange juice for one
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| It never entered my mind
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| You have what I lack, myself
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| And now I even have to scratch my back myself
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| In the wee small hours of the morning
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| While the whole wide world is fast asleep
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| You lie awake and you think about the boy
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| And never, ever think of counting sheep
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| When your lonely heart has learned its lesson
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| You’d be his if only he would call
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| In the wee small hours of the morning
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| That’s the time you miss him most of all
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| Once you warned me that if you scorned me
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| I’d sing the maiden’s prayer again
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| And wish that you were there again
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| To get into my hair again
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| It never entered my mind
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| It never entered my mind |