| Strolling past the daffodils
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| I won’t forget how it feels
|
| To be lost in the maze
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| Laying on the sun-kissed patch of grass
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| We found round the back of that palace garden place
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| There wasn’t a cloud in sight
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| Nor people strolling by
|
| You held your hand in mine and I sighed
|
| For there was not much to be found
|
| In your eyes
|
| And oh, of all the sights I’ve seen
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| Never knew it’d be you me and Buckley Bee
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| In the cool, warm shade
|
| And I should’ve kissed your face
|
| I should’ve explored all of the places
|
| Ooo, oh my
|
| How you seem to make me shy
|
| Ooo, and every time you kiss me on the lips
|
| I think of how I could get used… to this
|
| Used to your kisses
|
| So wakey, wakey, rise and shine, oh
|
| So wakey, wakey, rise and shine
|
| 'Twas another lovely evening again last night
|
| Honestly, did I not oblige
|
| To your every whim
|
| Seen as I was beholden?
|
| Ooo, oh my
|
| How you seem to make me shy
|
| Ooo, and every time
|
| Ooo, and every time
|
| Ooo, and every time you kiss me on the lips
|
| I think of how I could get used to this… |