| A friend brought me flowers, she said they were lilacs
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| But I’ve never been good with plants
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| Her next presentation, a new dictionary
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| She’d circled the word «romance»
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| So enthusiastic, a little bit drastic
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| I shaved her name in my head
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| As she beheld it, she said I misspelled it;
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| Need more be said?
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| These apples are delicious!
|
| «As a matter of fact they are,» she said
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| Can all this fruit be free?
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| She wrote me a letter as big as a phone book
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| I’ve never been big on mail
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| I sent her a postcard from somewhere near Lethbridge
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| And wondered if it still went by rail
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| I’ve never been frightened of being enlightened
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| But some things can go too far
|
| Though sometimes I stammer and mix up my grammar
|
| You get what my meanings are
|
| These apples are delicious!
|
| «As a matter of fact they are,» she said
|
| Can all this fruit be free?
|
| I’m not trying to sing a love song, I’m trying to sing in tune
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| I know I am sometimes headstrong
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| Falling in love, catching fire, I want to be consumed
|
| Wondering will I ever tire, will I ever tire?
|
| These apples are delicious!
|
| «As a matter of fact they are,» she said
|
| Can all this fruit be free? |