| Sweetheart, think how much better it would be
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| If you through life could just preserve your beauty.
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| It really doesn’t matter much to me
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| I don’t know why you think it is your duty
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| And don’t you think that through some kindly thought —
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| You’ve got much better chance to change the world
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| Those wrinkles on your face, dear,
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| Those bags beneath your eyes
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| Are but the evil trace, dear,
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| Of temper, spite and lies.
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| Why can’t you just be kind, dear,
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| Why…
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| Consider, sweetheart, if you smiled always
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| How much, through weeks, your face might be improving
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| In place of which, in these unhappy days,
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| You go to beauty shops for the removing
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| Of imperfections, wrinkles,
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| Blemishes and ugly spots
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| Why, when a smile will serve, you look for this these resorts?
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| Why can’t you raise a grin, sweet,
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| And be a little beauty?
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| Cause shining from within sweet
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| Has always been your duty.
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| So, for our sake, why can’t you make
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| An effort to be glad.
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| Just see yourself the way I do
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| Trust me you’re not that bad. |