| I was taken with a younger thing
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| Known to me as Rosie Shy
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| She had bells of brass to ring-a-ding
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| And danced to please your eyes
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| It seems like lovely Rosie Shy
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| She shrank from my caress
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| I think I’m dying from Rosie Shy
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| Cause my heart can’t get no rest
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| No my heart can’t get no rest
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| And I can’t find grace
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| In the human face today.
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| Reborn with a baby ear
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| I’m singing with Rosie Shy
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| Far away she looks so real
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| But up close she looks so high
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| I had a dream about Rosie Shy
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| And my dream did come true
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| And every step away from Rosie Shy
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| That’s a terrible thing to do
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| A terrible thing to do And I can’t find grace
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| In the human face today.
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| Sunny breakfast, in the Winter time
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| Coffee with Rosie Shy
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| To play or not was on her mind
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| But to love was in her eyes
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| And where was I with Rosie Shy
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| And was I ever on her mind
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| And if I can’t have my Rosie Shy
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| Then I’d choose to remain blind
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| Yes, I’d choose to remain blind
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| And refuse to find grace
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| In the human face today.
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| Is there such a thing as all the time
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| Even when it’s Rosie Shy?
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| And even lyrics that cannot rhyme
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| They often do apply
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| I wish the visions of Rosie Shy
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| Would come back like my dreams
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| Well, maybe they just signify
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| A talking, nothing thing
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| A talking, nothing thing
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| And I can’t find grace
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| In the human face today. |