| Darling, I’m with St. Bernards
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| And we are scouring the Alps and the Andes
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| And if they die then it is on my head
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| They follow paw prints in the snow to my throne, to my bed
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| You’re pouting in your sleep, I’m waking still yawning
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| We’re proving to each other that romance is boring
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| Sure there are things I could do if I was half prepared to
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| Prove to each other that romance is boring
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| Start as you mean to continue
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| Complacent and self-involved
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| You’re trying not to be nervous
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| If you were trying at all
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| I will wake, I will bake phallic cake
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| Take your diffidence, make it my clubhouse
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| But my strength’s within lies, ventricle cauterised
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| It’s the way of living that I espouse
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| You’re pouting in your sleep, I’m waking still yawning
|
| We’re proving to each other that romance is boring
|
| Sure there are things I could do if I was half prepared to
|
| Prove to each other that romance is boring
|
| We are two ships that pass in the night
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| You and I, we are nothing alike
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| I am a pleasure cruise, you are gone out to trawl
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| Return nets empty, nothing at all
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| You’re pouting in your sleep, I’m waking still yawning
|
| We’re proving to each other that romance is boring
|
| Sure there are things I could do if I was half prepared to
|
| Prove to each other that romance is boring |