| She’s confused. |
| She’s got a hundred thousand feelings
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| swimming through her head
|
| Stumblin around in her early twenties
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| between cortados and afterparties
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| Nothing but a cool gir, honey.
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| Nothing but a spoiled girl, honey.
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| Big brother, baby sister, cool step mama, cool step father
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| 4 week Paris,
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| and then springtime in New York.
|
| Oh! |
| She needs a saviour.
|
| And the saviour can be you
|
| Why don’t you save that girl? |
| Lord…
|
| Oh! |
| She needs a saviour.
|
| Can her hero be you?
|
| She confused, cause for the first time in her life
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| she’s free to do whatever she wants to
|
| (Whatever she wants, whatever she wants)
|
| But she does not carry a particular dream
|
| She’s not drawn to a particular scene
|
| And somewhere inside she’s starting to sence
|
| that life should be more than following trend
|
| Oh! |
| She needs a saviour. |
| And the saviour can be you
|
| Why don’t you save that girl? |
| Lord…
|
| Oh! |
| She needs a saviour. |
| Can her hero be you?
|
| Why don’t you save that girl?
|
| You! |
| Why don’t you save that girl?
|
| Oh. |
| Can’t someone save that girl? |