| There’s a smart young woman
|
| On a light blue screen
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| Who comes into my house every night
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| And she takes all the red, yellow
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| Orange and green
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| And she turns them into black and white
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| But you tease, and you flirt
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| And you shine all the buttons
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| On your green shirt
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| You can please yourself
|
| But somebody’s gonna get it
|
| Better cut off all identifying labels
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| Before they put you on the torture table
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| 'cause somewhere in the «quizling clinic»
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| There’s a shorthand typist
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| Taking seconds over minutes
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| She’s listening in to the venus line
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| She’s picking out names
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| I hope none of them are mine
|
| But you tease, and you flirt
|
| And you shine all the buttons
|
| On your green shirt
|
| You can please yourself
|
| But somebody’s gonna get it
|
| Never said I was a stool pigeon
|
| I never said I was a diplomat
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| Everybody is under suspicion
|
| But you don’t wanna hear about that
|
| 'cause you tease, and you flirt
|
| And you shine all the buttons
|
| On your green shirt
|
| You can please yourself
|
| But somebody’s gonna get it
|
| Better send a begging letter
|
| To the big investigation
|
| Who put these fingerprints on my imagination?
|
| You tease, and you flirt
|
| And you shine all the buttons
|
| On your green shirt
|
| You can please yourself
|
| But somebody’s gonna get it
|
| You can please yourself
|
| But somebody’s gonna get it
|
| You can please yourself
|
| But somebody’s gonna get it |