| No, I’m not myself today.
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| Je suis Salome… I am romantic
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| Je suis Apollo… I am gigantic
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| Hey! |
| Stronzo,
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| I’m standing next to you in the supermarket
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| Yeah! |
| Your are obvious, I am oblivious
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| Salome, Apollo, in Technicolour
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| I walked on the moon to touch the stars,
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| A legend in my lifetime.
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| Oh momma! |
| My Rosa! |
| From an early age
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| I was used and abused, no more those bad reviews
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| Take me back to '72 my coo ca choo,
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| Oh! |
| Ignorance was bliss,
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| Spunk-a-flow, to the joy of my first kiss
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| I’m not me… I’m not me… I’m not me… not me…
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| Non sono io!
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| Oh my lord, I’m so bored, what’s on the TV?
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| Do we really need these pissy popstars
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| When there’s not enough of me!
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| Oh Dada, my Dali, un chien de Lou Lou…
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| I am the art in your party,
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| Not a twist cap sniffing bore.
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| It’s tough in the queue, it’s as unto a platform shoe,
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| Oh! |
| Trampled underfoot,
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| I’m Fred Astaire, I face the music and dance.
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| I’m not me… I’m not me… I’m not me… not me…
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| No I’m not myself… today
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| Oh glorioso deliver us not into frustration
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| Salome, Apollo, in Technicolour,
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| I walked on the moon to touch the stars.
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| Hey Stronzo… Ancora!
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| I’m not me… I’m not me… I’m not me… not me…
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| Non sono io!
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| Heave ho… heave ho…
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| Leonardo! |
| Marlon Brando! |
| Machiavelli!
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| And Bertolt’s Belly!
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| A millionaire with curly hair, I’m your burning empire.
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| Greta Garbo! |
| Andy Warhol! |
| And his jam-roll!
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| Nero plays his violin, Seezer his accordian
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| I’m sitting in the bathtub watching the dirty water
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| Swirl down the plughole… and on my stereo…
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| .is Caruso. |