| Been tryna work 'em out for years
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| But there’s so much to see out of the window
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| I don’t know why they stopped me here
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| But must have been a reason, I forget
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| Don’t look inside, that’s not, that’s that prize
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| Don’t look inside, but don’t look down
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| The boy who sat by the window
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| With colorful thoughts flying through his head
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| The boy who sat by the window
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| This is some of the story, but it’s not over yet
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| Came to London, found a flat
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| Smoked a joint, wore a hat
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| Wore my trousers back to front
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| Went to
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| on the door turned me away
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| Went back the following Friday, got in
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| I came falling in love
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| «Are you crazy?"I heard them say
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| Now all I can see is Vivienne Westwood shaking her head
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| And got a Westwood bag on his head
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| He started everything, don’t laugh
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| No one’s trying to be funny
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| Polystyrene knows that I’m dyslexic
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| I never heard that word in school
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| I was just a troublemaker
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| The boy who sat by the window
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| With colorful thoughts flying through his head
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| The boy who sat by the window
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| This is some of the story, but it’s not over yet
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| I’m getting into a bit of spoken word, because
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| Words are meant to be spoken, haven’t you heard?
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| So like poetry but for queers and our straight friends
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| 'Cause it takes two of them to make one of me, get it?
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| We’re all in this together |