| There was a girl in Paris
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| Who he sent a letter to
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| Hoping she would answer back
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| Wasn’t that a fool
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| Hardy notion on the part of a
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| Sometimes lonely musician
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| Acting out a whim is only good
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| For a condition of the heart
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| There was a dame from London
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| Who insisted that he love her
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| Then left him for a real prince
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| From Arabia, now isn’t that
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| A shame that sometimes money
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| Buys you everything and nothing
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| Love, it only seems to buy a
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| Terminal condition of the heart
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| Thinking about you driving me crazy
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| My friends say it’s a phase honey
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| Every day is a yellow day
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| I’m blinded by the daisies in your yard
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| There was a woman from the ghetto
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| Who made funny faces just like
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| Clara Bow, how was I to know
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| That she would wear the same
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| Cologne as you and giggle the same
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| Giggle that you do?
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| Whenever I would act a fool, a fool
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| With a condition of the heart
|
| Thinking about you driving me crazy
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| And my friends it’s just a phase honey
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| Every single day is a yellow day
|
| I’m blinded by the daisies in your yard
|
| There was a girl in Paris |
| Whom he sent a letter to
|
| Hoping she would answer back
|
| Wasn’t that a fool
|
| Condition of the heart |