| I don’t want to go to dinner with Margo and Harold
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| I don’t like the way he looks at you
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| Or the way she looks at me, where they look at each other
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| Like we’re just part of some private joke
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| I don’t want to go to dinner with Margo and Harold
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| No matter how good the food
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| I don’t want to make small talk, innuendo
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| Or go for a ride in Harold’s Corvette
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| I’m scared of the basement of Harold’s Pawn Shop
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| I’ve heard tales of what goes down there
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| Mid-life crises, high on Di lauded, Valium and crystal myth
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| Harold and Margo, feeling no pain, fifty and crazy, big hair and cocaine
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| If they call on the phone, tell them I’m not home
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| That night with Margo was a long time ago
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| And it makes me nervous how much Harold knows
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| And the way he looks at you
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| I don’t want to hear why Harold’s now skinny
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| I don’t want to see Margo’s bikini
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| So if they call, tell them you ain’t seen me or that I’m in too much pain
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| Harold and Margo, taking aim, horny and loaded, big hair and cocaine |