| I can remember the first girl that I did love
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| It was Stephanie
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| In kindergarten arithmetic classes she used to
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| Sit next to me
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| I’d pass her sticky sweets under the table
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| Where the teacher couldn’t see
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| Although she wouldn’t remember me now
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| Sometimes I wonder where she can be
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| I can remember the first girl I kissed
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| It was Christine when I was ten
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| I’d been told we were moving away
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| I thought I’d never see her again
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| Oh don’t forget me
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| I’ll be back when they let me
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| Before you learn how to lie when you’re leaving
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| Love is so much easier then
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| And at school would you believe three hundred boys
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| And no girls at all
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| But you’re a fool if you should leave
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| Just think of the joys of rugby football
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| And prep in the morning and Brylcreem and acne
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| And cross-country running to kill evil thoughts
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| I’m surprised that I survived
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| I ran ten thousand miles with my back to the wall
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| I can remember the first girl that I made love to
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| It was in a park
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| In the lower pleasure gardens in Bournemouth
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| In summer just after dark
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| My mind was reeling: Oh what a feeling
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| I missed the bus and walked twelve miles home
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| And it really didn’t seem far
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| And all through my seventeenth summer
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| Running together from crowds and ties
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| Taking our clothes off and feeling each other
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| With fingers and senses and mouths and eyes
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| Incurring the glances of old disapproval
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| From elderly local inhabitant’s eyes
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| Oh time, time we hardly even knew you
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| You didn’t touch us with your lies
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| In the halcyon days of my late adolescence
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| My goal seemed clearly in sight
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| Playing electric guitar with a beat group
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| We set the ballrooms alight
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| Camping it up for the dyed blonde receptionists
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| Who told us we were al-ri-yi-yight
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| On an ego trip for a teenage superstar
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| On thirty shillings a nigh-yight
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| And so it fell that I came up to London
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| To look for fortune and fame
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| Starry eyed in my seaside successes
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| And much too sure of the game
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| First girl I met there I thought I’d get there
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| But the first girl was nearly the last girl
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| She left my eyes in the drain
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| She sat on my floor in the dead of the night
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| Rolling a joint and looking round for a light
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| Her clothes were so black and her face was so white
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| How could I know what was right?
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| And I sat all huddled upon my bed
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| Watching her in my innocence
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| And it was no sense at all, but too much sense
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| That took me to the bridge of impotence
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| Oh Artaud’s anthology lay spread on the floor
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| And the thoughts that she gave me
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| I’d not met before
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| And stranded half hypnotised
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| I watched her in awe
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| Of everything that she stood for
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| And I wanted more than anything to be like her with every sense
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| But it was no sense at all, but too much sense
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| That took me to the bridge of impotence
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| She came over to me and kissed me in play
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| Taking my hand between her legs as she lay
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| And she looked in my eyes but I turned them away
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| Finding no words fit to say
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| And I hated myself, but could not move
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| Shattered in my confidence
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| But it was no sense at all, but too much sense
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| That took me to the bridge of impotence
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| Now the stare of the lightbulb tore holes in my brain
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| As she got up in the silence that hung like a stain
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| And I wanted to speak, or to call out her name
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| But how could I begin to explain?
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| And my prosecuting room still holds
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| A strand of her hair in evidence
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| But it was no sense at all, but too much sense
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| That took me to the bridge of impotence
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| Oh I still think about her when the night fills with rain
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| And speaks in its voices uneasy and vain
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| And I think were I maybe to find her again
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| Oh I’d probably see her more plain
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| And I should have known she was just like me
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| It was after all only common-sense
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| But it was no sense at all, but too much sense
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| That took me to the bridge of impotence
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| But it was no sense at all, but too much sense
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| That took me to the bridge of impotence
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| At first I didn’t go out much at all
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| I just stayed at home in my chains
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| Picking over the threads of my confidence
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| And searching for the remains
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| And when I couldn’t stand any more of it
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| Going down to a club
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| Mixing in with the sounds and the crowds
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| I let the music cover me up |
| And only, lonely, the harlequins and painted phonies
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| Pick their ways, through the haze
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| Of highs and lows and blues
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| And all that I could do was to pick my way to you
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| Though I didn’t tell you
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| You were just a thing to prove
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| I was hungry when found you, but I’m alright now
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| They sigh, they lie, the refugees and superheroes
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| On ice, so nice to see you, what’s your name?
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| And all that I could do was to say the same to you
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| Take you for the moment, though the moment wasn’t true
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| But I was hungry when I found you and I’m alright now
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| Though the street lamp cut through the curfew
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| It shed no light on our mind
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| It would have been so easy to love you
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| At any other time
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| Only, lonely, you came to me the night hung coldly
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| In your eyes, some other time I might have stayed with you
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| But all that I could do was to turn around to you
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| Thanks for what you gave me now it’s time to say «Adieu»
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| I was hungry when I found you but I’m alright now
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| Ba ba ba alright now
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| And so it came that I stood disillusioned
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| By everything I’d been told
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| I just didn’t believe love existed
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| They were all just digging for gold
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| Widows and bankers and typists and businessmen
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| Loved each other they said
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| But all it was though was just a manoeuvre
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| The quickest way into bed
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| And so I followed the others' example
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| And jumped into the melee
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| In the hunting grounds of Earls Court and Swiss Cottage
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| I did my best to get laid
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| Beer cans and parties, deb girls and arties
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| Bouncing around in the social confusion
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| Missing and making the grade
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| The very first time I must confess
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| I thought you’d be like all of the rest
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| And we’d be strangers once again
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| By the time we were dressed
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| But when you’d smoked your cigarette
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| And talked of some people that we’d met
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| I found myself asking was it set
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| Did you have to go yet
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| And so you laughed and then kissed me
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| And stayed for the whole weekend
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| Although the bed was so narrow
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| We had to sleep end to end
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| And so the weeks passed through my brain
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| In their dadaistic chain
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| I found myself seeing you again, and again and again
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| And all you gave you gave it free
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| Asking for nothing back from me
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| You gave yourself unselfishly as a part of me
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| And where I thought that just plucking
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| The fruits of the bed was enough
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| It grew to be less like fucking
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| And more like making love
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| Of all the girls I ever knew
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| Some loved and some denied me
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| And all the words I ever said
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| Have been no use to hide me
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| And all the songs I ever sung
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| Each one of them untied me
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| And all the girls I ever loved
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| Have left themselves inside me |