| You don’t know, but you’re on my radio
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| I hear you singing everyday
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| All across these radio waves
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| The second half of this record is scratched
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| But it still plays cause every song
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| Has memories attached
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| Just look and see
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| Play it on, play it on, play it on me…
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| Play it on, play it on, play it on me…
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| Play it on, play it on, play it on me…
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| Play it on, play it on, play it on me…
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| The stormy days and the minor melodies
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| Makes what we hear so sincere
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| When every word is weighed
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| And when the good days come
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| Oh, the tune we’ll hum
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| Is the receipt we keep to save these sweet moments
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| And what they may become
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| It’s how I recall the things I’ve seen
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| Play it on, play it on, play it on me…
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| Play it on, play it on, play it on me…
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| Play it on, play it on, play it on me…
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| Play it on, play it on, play it on me…
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| All these things that buzz and ring
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| Are all what we keep intact
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| And on this path we collect them all
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| And they play on our soundtracks
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| And its sounds like…
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| Play it on, play it on, play it on me…
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| Play it on, play it on, play it on me…
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| Play it on, play it on, play it on me…
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| Play it on, play it on, play it on me… |