| Well, I’m too old for girls and I’m too young for women
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| I’ve looked all around and my hopes are a-dimmin'
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| I feel like a fish not allowed any swimmin'
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| And it makes a fella mean
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| To feel he’s a part of the Lost Generation
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| I feel like a choo-choo that can’t find the station
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| I work like a dog with no recreation
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| They call me Mr. In-Between
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| (Mr. In-Between, Mr. In-Between)
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| (Makes a fella mean, Mr. In-Between)
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| Got a hotrod Chevy with a twin carburetor
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| And I know a gal that’s a real sharp tomater
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| And she’s got a Daddy with a Caddy that’ll date 'er
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| You see what I mean
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| Those sweet little things just set me a-droolin'
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| I’m too big for sodas and I’m too old for schoolin'
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| Too young for lovin' but I’m too old for foolin'
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| They call me Mr. In-Between
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| (Mr. In-Between, Mr. In-Between)
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| (Tries to live so clean, Mr. In-Between)
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| I feel like a sailboat kept in a bottle
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| I feel like an engineer that can’t find the throttle
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| I’m too small to walk but I’m too big to toddle
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| And, Lordy, I’m turnin' green
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| To see all the men makin' time with the ladies
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| The high school kids at the show with their babies
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| While I run around like a dog with the rabies
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| They call me Mr. In-Between
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| (Mr. In-Between, Mr. In-Between)
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| (Better leave the scene, Mr. In-Between) |