| Pussyfooting setting Sun
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| Make a wish that weighs a tonne
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| There are no handles for you to hold
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| And no understanding where it goes
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| Jealousy in Technicolor
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| Fear by name than love by numbers
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| Street lamp amber wanderlust
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| Powder in a blunderbus
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| She looks as if she’s blowing a kiss at me And suddenly the sky is a scissor
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| Sitting on the floor with a tambourine
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| Crushing up a bundle of love
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| Don’t take it so personally
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| You’re not the only one
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| That time’s got it in for, honey
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| That’s where you’re wrong
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| All the old flames fastened on Make a wish that weighs a tonne
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| There are no handles you can hold
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| And no understanding where it goes
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| She looks as if she’s blowing a kiss at me And suddenly the sky is a scissor
|
| Sitting on the floor with a tambourine
|
| Crushing up a bundle of love
|
| Don’t take it so personally
|
| You’re not the only one
|
| That time’s got it in for, honey
|
| That’s where you’re wrong
|
| That’s where you’re wrong
|
| That’s where you’re wrong
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| Oh, oh |