| I was never one for singing
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| what I really feel
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| Except tonight, I’m bringing
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| everything I know that’s real
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| Stars, they come and go They come fast or slow
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| They go like the last light
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| of the sun, all in a blaze
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| and all you see is glory
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| But it gets lonely there
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| when there’s no one here to share
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| We can shake it away
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| if you’ll hear a story
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| People lust for fame
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| Like athletes in a game
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| we break our collarbones
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| and come up swinging
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| Some of us are downed
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| Some of us are crowned
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| and some are lost
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| and never found
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| But most have seen it all
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| They live their lives in sad cafes and music halls
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| They always have a story
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| Some make it when they’re young
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| before the world has
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| done its dirty job
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| and later on, someone will say
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| You’ve had your day
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| You must make way
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| But they’ll never know the pain
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| of living with a name you never owned
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| or the many years forgetting
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| what you know too well
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| The ones who gave the crown
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| have been let down
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| You try to make amends
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| without defending
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| Perhaps pretending
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| you never saw the eyes
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| of grown men of twenty five
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| that followed as you walked
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| and asked for autographs
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| or kissed you on the cheek
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| and you never could believe
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| they really loved you
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| Some make it when they’re old
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| (Perhaps they have a soul
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| they’re not afraid to bare
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| Or perhaps there’s nothing there)
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| Some women have a body
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| men will want to see,
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| so they put it on display
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| Some people play a fine guitar
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| I could listen to them
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| play all day
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| Some ladies really
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| move across a stage
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| and gee, they sure can dance
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| I guess I could learn how
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| if I have it half a chance
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| but I always feel so funny
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| when my body tries to soar
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| and I seem to always worry
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| about missing the next chord
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| I guess there isn’t anything
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| to put up on display
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| except the tunes
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| and whatever else I say
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| Anyway, that isn’t really
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| what I meant to say
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| I meant to tell a story
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| I live from day to day
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| Stars, they come and go They come fast or slow
|
| They go like the last light
|
| of the sun, all in a blaze
|
| and all you see is glory
|
| But those who’ve seen it all
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| they live their lives
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| in sad cafes and music halls
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| we always have a story
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| So if you don’t lose patience
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| with my fumbling around,
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| I’ll come up singing for you
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| even when I’m down |