| «I was gonna talk about it. |
| It’s like a bit happier and brighter than I thought
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| it would be.»
|
| «Well, this isn’t gonna be anywhere near the—what the finished beat will be,
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| I don’t reckon.»
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| On the footpath out the front of Oxford Arts
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| Stinging for a stiff drink in a short glass
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| Junkies and cop cars rushing past
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| And I’m thinking there could be a bit of mischief on the cards
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| It was a Friday night and the treble was clanging
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| And the hipsters was hanging, and the ladies was banging
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| So uh… me and the fellas are looking for companions
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| In the corner chatting to these chicks, tryna make it happen
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| And as far as I can tell, it’s all going swell
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| Vibing out, just hanging with my mademoiselle
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| But I wasn’t planning on that everyman for himself
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| When my boy’s step in and start chatting as well
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| I figure it’s game over, that’s stiff competition
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| See my man’s got a way with women
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| Self-fashioned Casanov, the other has a lady at home, but
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| He’s still on a mission to fill his quota
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| And sure enough, next thing you know they’re both pairing up
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| And I’m back to square one thinking, 'Fuck it, I’m done'
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| So I catch a cab home down Parramatta Road
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| Listen to the cabby chatter on his phone
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| Breath fogging up the glass, city lights rushing past
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| Damn, I shoulda seen it coming from the start
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| Nice guys finish last
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| Good girls move too fast
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| Now you’re sitting in the back of your car
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| Thinking that you’ve gone too far
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| But you’ll never know
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| No, you’ll never know
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| 'Cause nice guys finish last
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| (Ring ring) Ayo, whatup, ma?
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| Wanna talk about how your man is acting subpar?
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| You under stress, under-appreciated?
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| Wishing I was the man that you were dating?
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| Mm-hmm okay, well I’m laughing and I’m smiling
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| All the while I got the West Wing on silent
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| Dividing my attention until I hear you mention
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| When yours truly was the object of your affection
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| But you chatting 'bout this wally, how he can’t stay put
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| Reminiscing 'bout that Molly down at Halfway Crooks
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| Well, I don’t remember much beyond your touch
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| A little hazy on the ooh baby’s, you were hasty, in a rush
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| To get out that door, see that much I can recall
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| Now you’ve got my phone on blast?
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| Nice guys finish last
|
| Good girls move too fast
|
| Now you’re sitting in the back of your car
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| Thinking that you’ve gone too far
|
| But you’ll never know
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| No, you’ll never know
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| 'Cause nice guys finish last
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| And I should know
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| 'Cause I’m sitting at the back of the pack
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| Man, I should have seen this coming from the start
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| Nice guys finish last
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| So if you ain’t no slick talker, looking for some sorta fling
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| Just hoping that some pretty young thing
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| In the city might catch you in the corner of her eye
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| And take pity on you, make you her king, spare a thought for the
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| Nice guys of the world we applaud
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| Raise up the hand that you use to open her door
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| And just give yourselves a pat on the back
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| Signing out from the back of the pack, it’s like that
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| Now you’re sitting in the back of your car
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| Thinking that you’ve gone too far
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| Chasing popped collars at the bar
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| The type who be paying on card
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| You ain’t gotta look so hard
|
| But you’ll never know
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| No, you’ll never know
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| Nice guys finish last |