| It was just another morning
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| Groundhog Day
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| Sonny and Cher on the alarm clock way
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| He opened his eyes
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| And stared at the mug only a son’s mother could love plus
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| Mommy missed ten years of aging
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| Uncut facial hair and gained weight
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| Who’s to say she’d still see her baby
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| If she was around to stare at that face
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| He stared at it once, daily
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| Which made his thoughts escape sane
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| But he kept them between his temples
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| It was hard, trying to control the head full of shorts
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| That rode when he didn’t wanna watch them
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| He was sick of the soda, poppin' popcorn
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| But they played over and over
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| Over and over
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| Over and over and out
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| Off his mind they bounced
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| Allowing him to climb back in
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| Until the next film started
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| Which caused him to fall back down like Mike Douglas
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| Wearing black rims
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| But he didn’t have swing for a bat
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| He was better off quiet
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| A talkie? |
| He was better off not
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| He reached for his toothbrush
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| Squarded some paste on the bristles and scrubbed
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| His teeth for a minute
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| Spit
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| Rinse
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| Spit
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| Fresh like Prince
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| Wiped his mouth with the towel
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| Looked at his face once more
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| Saluted the boy in the mirror
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| In case I don’t see you tomorrow
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| Lights out |