| I’ve read your pretty speaches
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| And I must admit they touched my heart
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| I don’t know where you borrow them
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| But most of them are works of art
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| No school boy with his Valentines
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| Was ever more sincere
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| I’ve tried to read between the lines
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| To make the meaning clear
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| But there’s a little voice that whispers
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| Softly, as I fall asleep:
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| «You better look before you leap.»
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| My intuition says to me,
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| Don’t ever give your heart away
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| And so I simply must obey my intuition
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| My intuition says to me Those pretty words may not be true
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| So what am I supposed to do in my position?
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| I’d like to trust my heart
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| Believe in just my heart
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| But it is much too young to know
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| So though it may be bad advice
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| I guess I’ll have to string along
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| Until you prove my intuition
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| Can be wrong.
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| My intuition goes like this:
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| I’m playing poker with a bunch
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| And all at once I get a hunch
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| That’s intuition
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| I’m playing aces back to back
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| And I can see a pair of kings
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| But if there’s one more of those things
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| What’s my position?
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| Well, if you get the cards
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| Then you should bet the cards
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| At least, that’s what I’ve always heard
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| You have your hunch, I’ll have mine
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| Suppose we both we both just string along
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| Until we prove our intuition can be wrong. |