| Seventeen on a Sunday driving home from L.A.
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| It’s been a hell day
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| Fancy seeing you soundly acting like you know me
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| I don’t know what to say
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| It’s been a year, have you made any money?
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| Have you done anything or no?
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| Seventeen on a Sunday driving home from L.A.
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| Losing my head and my life, ain’t mine
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| Maybe I’m crazy, I’m young, I’m lost
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| Maybe that’s alright and then
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| Someone says, «Hey girl
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| Take a walk on the wildside»
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| I said, «Hey girl
|
| Take a walk on the wildside»
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| Feeling naked in the showcase, lose it in the load days
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| And I don’t have a face
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| Feeling something on my shoulder
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| Hell is freezing over, but you never complain
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| Why’d he laugh when I wasn’t even funny?
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| I’m just a girl on the song that I wrote
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| Feeling naked in the showcase, lose it in the load days
|
| Losing my head and my life, ain’t mine
|
| Maybe I’m crazy, I’m young, I’m lost
|
| Maybe that’s alright and then
|
| Someone says, «Hey girl
|
| Take a walk on the wildside»
|
| I said, «Hey girl
|
| Take a walk on the wildside»
|
| Someone says, «Hey girl
|
| Take a walk on the wildside»
|
| I said, «Hey girl
|
| Take a walk on the wildside
|
| Someone says, «Hey girl
|
| Take a walk on the wildside»
|
| I said, «Hey girl
|
| Take a walk on the wildside |