| Fools on parade cavort and carry on for waiting eyes
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| That you would rather be beside than in front of
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| But she’s never been the kind to be hollowed by the stares
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| She swam out of tonight’s phantasm
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| Grabbed my hand and made it very clear
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| There’s absolutely nothing for us here
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| It’s a magnolia celebration to be attended on a Wednesday night
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| It’s better that than get a reputation as a miserable little tyke
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| At least that’s the conclusion she came to in this overture
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| And the secret door swings behind us
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| She’s saying nothing, she’s just giggling along
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| Her arms were folded most indignant
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| Not looking like she was soon to leave
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| I had to squint in order to believe
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| Then like a butler pushing on a bookshelf
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| I’m unveiling the unexpected
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| I, who was earlier reluctant
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| Was suddenly embarrassed and corrected
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| How could such a creature survive in such a habitat?
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| And the secret door swings behind us
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| She’s saying nothing, she’s just giggling along
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| Even if they were to find us
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| I wouldn’t notice, I’m completely occupied
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| As all the fools on parade cavort and carry on for waiting eyes
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| Ones you would rather be beside than in front of
|
| But she’s never been the kind to be hollowed by the stares
|
| Fools on parade frolic and fuck about to make her gaze
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| Turn to a scribble on a page by a picture that holds her absence
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| But you’re daft to think she’d care
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| Fools on parade
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| Fools on parade
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| Fools on parade
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| Conduct a sing-along |