| Should I call you officer
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| ‘Cause you’re asking all the questions that I get at the border
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| I know you want to file me away
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| With the girls who disappoint you every day
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| I’m no better staring at your mouth
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| Making other plans as the words come out
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| It’s hard to choose in a crowded room
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| You’re never satisfied with the one you’re talking to
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| And if I believe in Jesus
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| Like a little girl in her Sunday dress
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| And if I live forever like Elvis
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| Would I be perfect?
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| Well I’m not what I claim to be
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| And I’ve heard you whispering when I leave
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| We’re all trying to leave no trace
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| But somehow your life gets written on your face
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| And if I believe in Jesus
|
| Like a little girl in her Sunday dress
|
| And if I live forever like Elvis
|
| Would I be perfect?
|
| And what am I gonna tell that little girl
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| When she asks me what I left for her
|
| And what am I gonna tell that little girl
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| When she runs home crying, it’s a cruel, cruel world
|
| And what am I gonna tell that little girl
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| That little girl
|
| I’m twenty-two and I’ve been through hell
|
| Where did I go when I lost myself?
|
| Where did I go when I lost myself?
|
| Where did I go when I lost myself?
|
| And if I believe in Jesus
|
| Like a little girl in her Sunday dress
|
| And if I live forever like Elvis
|
| Would I be perfect? |