| Some times I feel I lost something
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| In gaining everything,
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| But I can’t put my finger on what it was,
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| It’s just one of those nagging feelings,
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| Like sitting with your back to an open door
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| Waiting on a favourite stranger.
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| I find it hard to talk about, it’s not easy
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| As you might expect
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| Just sitting here waiting, trying to accept
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| That there’s something missing,
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| That there’s something not quite there
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| And that’s why you’re sitting there.
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| Listening to me as I try to explain that
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| Chorus: you’re my favourite stranger
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| But don’t read between the lines,
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| I could say that I love you at this moment
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| In passing time,
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| But I could honestly tell you
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| I don’t know why I’m here,
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| Sharing all my problems with you
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| When you’ve already got your own share,
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| From favourite strangers.
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| Maybe it’s just I need an audience to Pretend it’s all an act,
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| But all I gain is your confidence
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| And a number in a filofax
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| On the terms that it’s a first name
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| That’ll run one day in split champagne
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| And I’ll recollect and just accept
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| That you were one of my favourite strangers.
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| (chorus)
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| Sometimes I know I lost everything
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| In gaining something,
|
| But I can’t put my finger on what it was
|
| Its just one of those nagging feelings
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| Like sitting with your back to an open door,
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| Expecting favourite strangers. |