| You leaf through me like a book,
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| You are looking for pictures, but there are no pictures.
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| And in vain do you consider me a novel,
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| After all, I'm just a little sonnet.
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| So come here, come up to me
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| Without you, I feel so bad, but with you it's good.
|
| So come here, come up to me
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| Without you, I feel so bad, but with you it's good.
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| Again I laugh, joke and cry,
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| I give out my cry for singing.
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| But still I believe in luck
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| How do you believe in my love.
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| So come here, come up to me
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| Without you, I feel so bad, but with you it's good.
|
| So come here, come up to me
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| I feel so bad without you, but nothing with you.
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| Again I laugh, joke and cry,
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| And again the day of madness turns.
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| While I, while I am young,
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| Everything-everything-everything-everything-everything is forgiven me.
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| So come here, come up to me
|
| Without you, I feel so bad, but with you it's good.
|
| So come here, come up to me
|
| Without you, I feel so bad, but with you it's good.
|
| So come here, come up to me
|
| Without you, I feel so bad, but with you it's good.
|
| So come here, come up to me
|
| Without you, I feel so bad, but with you it's good.
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| And it's good with you. |
| And it's good with you.
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| And it's good with you! |
| And it's good with you!
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| And it's good with you!..
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| So come here! |