| There’s an old lady, she lives on my floor
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| She broke her hip last spring, she don’t get out much anymore
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| She’s up with all the phone in hosts
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| Though she don’t care if she know 'em
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| And it was for her that I wrote this poem.
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| I ain’t as old as I like to think I am Sometimes I still get that lively feeling
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| I wanna clean the house or run a mile
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| Or try to jump up and slap the ceiling
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| Throw the furniture across the room
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| Sing to myself a little out of tune
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| Turn out the lights and hang a moon out the window at the neighborhood below
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| I sent a postcard to Jeopardy! |
| Last year
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| It’d be a good excuse to get down to L.A.
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| I won a freezerful of beef on a phone-in show
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| My freezer’s full but give it time, y’know
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| When I’m on, my luck is out of sight
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| But I work hard and I do alright
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| So let’s have a barbeque tonight at my house!
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| If I sat down and counted my blessings
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| I’d be cheating if I got past two or three
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| So If I seem a bit wierded out sometimes
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| Just smile and nod and humour me And this is Louie the Mute, say hello to him
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| And Maxie makes shoes out of soda straws
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| And that in the corner is Carlos;
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| He’s got the biggest collection of bullwhips I bet you’ve ever seen!
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| And who cares if our friendship is discreet
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| Or if it’s mainly because of the meat
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| Cos I’m completely happy tonight
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| Well, pretty close.
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| (Hey Carlos, can I touch them?) |