| And this is why I wish I could be
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| Just like Spencer Tracy
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| But I don’t have the build or the poise
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| And I’m a few pounds shy
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| If I were more like Spencer
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| I might not carry this handful of broken fingers
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| Just 'cause I saw Valentino smoking under the streetlight
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| I saw Valentino smoking under the streetlight
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| I swear I’m stone-cold sober
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| I can’t believe my eyes
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| But I’m not going over
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| I just hold back and hide
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| Then again, the lights spread all around him like wings
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| I saw Valentino, Saint Valentino
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| I saw Valentino, Saint Valentino
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| I held back fifteen years or more
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| Falling in love with another
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| Watching the saint with a roll-up
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| Resisting the urge to go over
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| Until I couldn’t help it
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| And I crept over into the wings and halo
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| I said, «You look like Valentino
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| You look like Valentino
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| You look like Valentino»
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| He grabbed me by the hair and threw me down
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| Screaming, «I ought to fucking lynch you!»
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| He broke most of my fingers
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| By standing on my hands
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| He broke most of my fingers
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| Standing on my hands
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| And it was just the same thing
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| Just the same thing, all over, all over |