| Oh, it was such a sparkling day
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| That I should be singing its praises
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| Just to catch my senses as they slip away
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| But my sentences and phrases
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| Are about as worthless as wonder can be
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| And there are words that I could say
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| Perhaps I lack the sense of occasion
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| Seems that I’ve been looking down so long you see
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| That it seemed like up to me
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| I should be ashamed I’m sure you will agree
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| So don’t go calling out for Jude or Anthony
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| Maybe I was lost
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| I’m a hopeless case
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| So that every night I listen carefully
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| But there is no message from me
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| No message from me
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| Sparkling day
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| Things I never said
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| Some things you never heard
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| Sparkling day
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| Now I wait in vain to see
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| That there was no message from me
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| When love is constant and content
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| You always fear some lingering temptation
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| Silhouettes escaping underneath locked doors
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| I’m astonished and amazed
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| Perhaps my message was erased |