| Somebody’s calling me to be my girl
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| Somebody’s calling me to be my girl
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| But my hands don’t work; |
| they’re more like feet
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| And the wake-up call, «go back to sleep»
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| Babe, come with me
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| And I’ll take you to the place I sleep
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| Oh, darling, come with me
|
| And I’ll show you the place I sleep
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| Somebody’s phoning me to be my girl
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| Somebody’s phoning me to be my girl
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| But the phone won’t ring when I’m on the street
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| And the heart won’t beat when I’m half asleep
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| Somebody’s texting me to be my girl
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| Constantly texting me to be my girl
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| But the text won’t take away nights that creep
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| And my mouth won’t move when I’m in too deep
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| Babe, come with me
|
| And I’ll take you to the place I sleep
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| Oh, darling, come with me
|
| And I’ll show you the place I sleep
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| All right
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| Somebody’s calling me into their work
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| Wrapped up and full of good inside their work
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| But the car won’t start when I’m half asleep
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| And the kids don’t cry when you’re on your feet
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| Babe, come with me
|
| And I’ll show you the place I sleep
|
| Oh, darling, come with me
|
| And I’ll take you to the place I live
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| The place I live
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| The place I live
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| The place I live
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| The places where I live |