| I am sitting in the morning at the diner on the corner
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| I am waiting at the counter for the man to pour the coffee
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| And he fills it only halfway and before I even argue
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| He is looking out the window at somebody coming in
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| «It is always nice to see you,» says the man behind the counter
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| To the woman who has come in, she is shaking her umbrella
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| And I look the other way, as they are kissing their hellos
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| And I’m pretending not to see them and instead I pour the milk
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| I open up the paper, there’s a story of an actor
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| Who had died while he was drinkin
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| It was no one that I had heard of
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| And I’m turning to the horoscope and looking for the funnies
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| When I’m feeling someone watching me and so I raise my head
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| There’s a woman on the outside looking inside; |
| Does she see me?
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| No, she does not really see me 'cause she sees her own reflection
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| And I’m trying not to notice that she’s hitching up her skirt
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| And while she’s straightening her stockings, her hair is getting wet
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| «It is always nice to see you», says the man behind the counter
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| To the woman who has come in, she is shaking her umbrella
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| And I look the other way, as they are kissing their hellos
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| And I’m pretending not to see them and instead I pour the milk |