| When I turned 16, I was furious and restless
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| Got a Chelsea Girl haircut and a plane ticket to Paris.
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| I stayed there with a pansy, he had a studio in the seventh
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| Lost his lover to a sickness, I slept beside him in his bed.
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| That’s when I met Nancy, she was smoking on a gypsy
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| She had a ring in her nose and her eyes were changing like moonstones.
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| She said «Open up late bloomer, it will make you smile.
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| I can see that fire burning in you, little child.»
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| Nancy came from Boston, she got in trouble very often
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| Cause her parents had forgotten her, she escaped over the pond.
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| She was searching for the writer of a song that made her shiver
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| She listened over and over on her Walkman cassette.
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| She said «Come with me late bloomer, for a little while.
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| I wanna see that fire burning in you, little child.»
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| How could I resist her, I had longed for a big sister
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| And I wanted to kiss her, but I hadn’t the nerve.
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| We found the writer, he was just some kid from Boston.
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| I was jealous as I watched him talking to her.
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| But man was I astonished, didn’t look like no Adonis,
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| But as Nancy had promised, he was heavy as lead.
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| And he said «Come with us, late bloomer, for a little while.
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| We wanna feel that fire burning in you, little child.»
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| Forgive me my candor, but I just had to have her.
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| And at the time I didn’t mind sharing with him.
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| We rode in silence, all the way back to the seventh,
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| And I promised I’d write her but I never did.
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| And she said, «Au revoir, late bloomer, for a little while.
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| You gotta keep the fire burning in you, little child.» |