| I stood in the doorway in my white nightgown
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| Red roses on cotton, I stood three feet from the ground
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| The grownups inside used words I didn’t know
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| But still I enjoyed the show
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| They looked so lovely, they looked so self-assured
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| And I just like them would know it all when I matured
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| And I wouldn’t be afraid of the darkness or the bears
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| Or the cracks in the ceiling upstairs
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| Now I’ve just gotten older, I’ve just gotten taller
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| And the little ones, they call me a grownup
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| Lat night at a friend’s house a little girl was there
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| She stood in the doorway playing with her hair
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| She looked up to me as if I could do no wrong
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| As I got up to sing my song
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| I sang it with a shiver in my throat and in my knees
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| Feeling just as small as a thistle in a breeze
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| But the child’s imagination carried me along
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| And saw me through my song
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| Now I’ve just gotten older, I’ve just gotten taller
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| And the little ones call me a grownup |