| As you know when the girl of your dreams
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| Doesn’t seem to exist
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| If you want my opinion then here’s what it is
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| Don’t tell your wife she’ll kill ya
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| And who knows maybe one day you’ll wake up
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| And walk to the door
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| Where’s she’s waiting impatient this daughter of yours
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| Saying give me away dad will ya
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| Try proving suicide is painless
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| And who are those that claim this
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| The only way to die and to die again
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| As I recall I entertain an empty hall
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| Doesn’t bother me in the slightest if a mirror’s cracked
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| It could be that a missing screw is all it lacked
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| I’ll walk under ladders but the funny thing is each time
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| I do I go flying
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| I’ve had moments when depression seemed the only cure
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| Days when doubts were all about but now I’m sure
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| Despite loosing battles that I know if I could win
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| I’ve never been short of a smile
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| As you know you can stand to attention while wiggling your toes
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| It’s a breach of the rules but in boots I suppose
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| You could be forgiven
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| As you go into work on a Sunday
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| You hazard guess wasn’t Sunday the one day
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| We all used to rest
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| I’ve never been short of smile
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| You cannot have your cake and eat it
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| But given a piece why keep it
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| What purpose is being served
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| If you leave it lying on a tray
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| Only to be thrown away
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| If invited to a party as a rule of thumb
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| If there’s not a kitchen in it I won’t come
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| I known that it’s boring but at least you don’t have to speak
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| You just up the heat
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| If there’s one good thing about me then it ought to be
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| Even when I’m up against adversity
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| Despite my misgivings on the shape that I’m in
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| I’ve never been short of a smile
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| (It's so easy to forget) (Every time you draw your breath) (Should be hung up
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| on the wall) (A reminder to us all)
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| That however much we moan
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| All our lives we’ve only one to live
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| To be or not to be what is it
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| About this phrase that gives it
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| A meaning so profound
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| That if Shakespeare were here today
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| I bet he’d throw it all away
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| Doesn’t bother me the slightest if a cat is black
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| It could be that a pot of paint had turned him that I’ll walk under ladders but
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| the funny thing every time I do I go flying
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| I’ve had moments when depression seemed the only cure
|
| Days when I was burning up now I’m sure despite my resentment of the pain I was
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| in
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| I’ve never been short of a smile |