| What good is sitting alone in your room?
|
| Come hear the music play
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| Life is a cabaret, old chum
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| Come to the cabaret
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| Put down the knitting, the book and the broom
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| It’s time for a holiday
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| Life is a cabaret, old chum
|
| So come to the cabaret
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| Come taste the wine
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| Come hear the band
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| Come blow your horn
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| Start celebrating right this way
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| Your table’s waiting
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| What good’s permitting some prophet of doom
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| To wipe every smile away
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| Life is a cabaret, old chum
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| So come to the cabaret
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| I used to have this girlfriend known as Elsie
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| With whom I shared four sordid rooms in Chelsea
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| She wasn’t what you’d call a blushing flower
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| As a matter of fact she rented by the hour
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| The day she died the neighbors came to snicker
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| «Well, that’s what comes from too much pills and liquor»
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| But when I saw her laid out like a Queen
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| She was the happiest corpse, I’d ever seen
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| I think of Elsie to this very day
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| I remember how she’d turn to me and say
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| «What good is sitting all alone in your room?
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| Come hear the music play
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| Life is a cabaret, old chum
|
| Come to the cabaret
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| And as for me
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| And as for me
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| I made my mind up, back in Chelsea
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| When I go, I’m going like Elsie
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| Start by admitting from cradle to tomb
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| Isn’t that long a stay
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| Life is a cabaret, old chum
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| It’s only a cabaret, old chum
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| And I love a cabaret |