| Turning pages. |
| glancing through the classified
|
| The whole night’s sleep was in my eyes
|
| Spilling coffee on my shoes, I noticed you
|
| Saw it all in black and white: «The Broadway Girl
|
| Makes Good Tonight»
|
| Then some old friend decides to phone
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| To ask me how I got to know
|
| Read it in the New York Times
|
| It was a smile I recognized
|
| With an unfamiliar- name and another fool by your side
|
| And it really hurt my pride
|
| Cause it’s a bitch to realize
|
| You’re only second prize, just another New York time
|
| Sunday afternoon, and those old movies make me cry
|
| I’II never know the reasons why
|
| Don’t know why I waste my time recalling lines
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| From a letter by the bed, much better left unread
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| But old times come on back again when you
|
| Think you heard the last of them
|
| I read it in the New York Times
|
| It was a smile I recognized
|
| With an unfamiliar name and another fool by your side
|
| And it really hurt my pride
|
| Cause it’s a bitch realize
|
| You’re only second prize. |
| just another New York time |