| Way back when I was all of three
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| I fell down and skinned my knee
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| It didn’t matter much to me
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| C’est la vie
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| At the tender age of ten, running wild and free
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| I didn’t get no sympathy, fine by me
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| I wasn’t concerned with the ways of the world and his wife
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| The pattern was set in stone for the rest of my life
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| It doesn’t matter if I win or lose
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| As long as I am free to choose
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| It doesn’t matter if I win or lose
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| As long as I am free to choose
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| I’d just turned seventeen when it all went wrong
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| So I sang a different song
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| In a strange and awkward key
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| Doh ray me
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| I cut myself some slack, I headed way down south
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| And though my heart was in my mouth
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| I knew that things would turn out fine
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| Just marking time
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| I wasn’t concerned with the way of the world and his wife
|
| That pattern was set in stone for the rest of my life
|
| It doesn’t matter if I win or lose
|
| As long as I am free to choose
|
| It doesn’t matter if I win or lose
|
| As long as I am free to choose
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| And how the years have flown and I’m full grown
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| With a small child of my own
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| Who fell down and skinned his knee
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| C’est la vie
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| He said
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| «It doesn’t matter if I win or lose
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| As long as I am free to choose
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| It doesn’t matter if I win or lose
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| As long as I am free to choose» |