| One look from him and I fell under his spell
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| His manicured fingers moved like a magician’s
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| His lips in proportion to the pearly-white, dazzling
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| Perfection of his irresistible smile
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| With great expertise, never wasting a word
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| I gave in to his charm and persuasion as he sweet talked to me
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| We started to meet and date fast and furiously
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| In all the unusual places we could think of
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| My artful young man had endless resources
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| Pulling the strings that seduced me
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| No hesitation when he asked me sincerely
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| «Come on let’s get married»: he was a master of self-assured ease
|
| Wedding day memories come back to remind me
|
| A veil of white lace trailing softly behind me
|
| Something borrowed’n’blue, something old’n’new
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| As I waited devoutly from the groom to appear
|
| Crammed in their pews the guests growing restless
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| Restraining their pent-up hysteria
|
| The minutes ticked by with relentless precision
|
| So where on earth was my husband to be?
|
| No hesitation when he asked me sincerely
|
| «Come on let’s get married»: he was a master of self-assured ease
|
| Wedding day memories come back to remind me
|
| A veil of white lace trailing softly behind me
|
| No nervous bridegroom in manly composure
|
| Only the priest in cospicuous embarassment
|
| Wedding day memories come back to remind me
|
| A veil of white lace trailing softly behind me
|
| No nervous bridegroom in manly composure
|
| Only the priest in cospicuous embarassment
|
| Wedding day memories come back to remind me
|
| A veil of white lace trailing softly behind me
|
| No wedding march to walk down the aisle with
|
| Just the dull dirge of my inconsolable grieving |