| Make a new cult every day to suit your affairs
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| Kissing girls in English, at the back of the stairs
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| You’re a honey, with a following of innocent boys
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| They never know it
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| Because you never show it
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| You always get your way
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| They never know it
|
| Because you never show it
|
| You always get your way
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| Have you and her been taking pictures of your obsessions?
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| Because I met a kid who went through one of your sessions
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| In his blue velour and silk
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| You liberated
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| A boy I never rated
|
| And now he’s throwing discuss
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| For Liverpool and Widnes
|
| You liberated
|
| A boy I never rated
|
| And now he’s doing business
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| The stars of track and field, you are
|
| The stars of track and field, you are
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| The stars of track and field are beautiful people
|
| Could I write a piece about you now that you’ve made it?
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| About the hours spent, the emptiness in your training
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| You only did it so that you could wear
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| Your terry underwear
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| And feel the city air
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| Run past your body
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| Could I write a requiem for you when you’re dead?
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| «She had the moves, she had the speed, it went to her head»
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| She never needed anything to get her round the track
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| But when she’s on her back
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| She had the knowledge
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| To get her into college
|
| But when she’s on her back
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| She had the knowledge
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| To get her into college |