| You’ve got me sitting on your mantle like a little glass figurine
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| Why must you be so mean?
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| Don’t you know I’ve got better things to do
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| I’m like a mail order product from a housekeeping magazine.
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| How utterly embarrassing,
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| well lady I’m not going to dance that dance.
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| Let the giraffes do it, let the sad clown cry.
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| Your porcelain kisses are not going to turn me shy.
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| No, I’m not your little boy,
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| your rosy-cheeked joy,
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| though the thought of you makes me sanguine
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| I’ll do anything you want
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| but I won’t be your glass figurine
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| Let the giraffes do it, let the sad clown cry.
|
| Your porcelain kisses are not going to turn me shy.
|
| No, I’m not your little boy,
|
| your rosy-cheeked joy,
|
| though the thought of you makes me sanguine
|
| I’ll do anything you want
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| but I won’t be your glass figurine
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| I’m like a mail-order product from a housekeeping magazine
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| I’ll do anything you want
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| but I won’t be your glass figurine |