| It used to be, when you’re feeling lonely
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| You go right out, and find a little girl
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| But now they have a new machine
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| The prettiest little thing you’ve ever seen
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| It’s electronic, it’s automatic
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| And it makes a humming sound
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| They put your name upon a card
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| Your age and weight
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| Your height, your sight
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| Your ears and what you eat for breakfast food
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| Your favorite car
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| Your birthstone and your hat
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| And that, my friend, is not the end
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| Your schooling and your I. Q
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| Have you ever been arrested, if so why?
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| Your favorite film
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| Your glove size and your faith
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| And then it’s all notated, written down and perforated
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| And they drop your little card into a slot
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| I went to the office, filled out an application
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| I paid four dollars to make a reservation
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| The man was very kind, he seemed to understand
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| He said «It can’t go wrong; |
| it never makes mistakes»
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| It’s electronic, it’s automatic
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| And it makes a humming sound
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| I feel so good
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| I feel secure
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| It’s going to find me a
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| Girl
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| Well, I woke up on Monday morning
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| Received a postcard, raised discreetly
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| It said I had a date with a certain Agnes Snow
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| A name and address, a place for me to go
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| I was ecstatic, my thoughts erratic
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| And I made a humming sound
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| Called her on the telephone
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| She’s so sweet
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| We met and then she swept me off my feet
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| Three weeks more is all it took
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| To make me ask her to be mine
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| She said «yes,» we went right out to find a Justice of the Peace
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| I knocked at the door, it opened to reveal
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| The prettiest little thing you’ve ever seen
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| An automatic, electronic machine
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| There comes a time, when I always feel like cryin'
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| A thought hurts me so much I feel I must hide
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| I left a girl who really, really loved me
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| Causin' a feelin' I cannot keep inside |