| A cardboard inner-city
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| Has found its way to me
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| It’s out, and it’s out, and it’s out
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| Making me cry
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| I think that I will not move
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| I’m too scared to leave my room
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| But I won’t be defeated, oh no
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| What if cards don’t go my way?
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| Then it’s sure to spoil my day
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| But in voices loud and clear
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| You say to me it’s only superstition
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| It’s only your imagination
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| It’s only your other things that you feel
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| And the things from which you can’t escape
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| Keep clean for the thousandth time
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| Stand still and wait in line
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| So nobody’s better than others, oh no
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| What if cards don’t go my way?
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| Then it’s sure to spoil my day
|
| But in voices loud and clear
|
| You say to me it’s only superstition
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| It’s only your imagination
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| It’s only your other things that you feel
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| And the things from which you can’t explain
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| And it’s making me cry
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| And it’s making me cry
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| And I’m slipping away, love
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| I’m slipping away
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| It’s only superstition
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| Only your imagination
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| It’s only superstition
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| Only superstition |