| A winter morning sun in New York
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| Champagne wakes and checks the time
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| It’s hard to keep a cup of coffee down
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| When there’s so much on your mind
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| Kicks a cockroach 'cross the bedroom floor
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| Checks the mirror grabs some clothes
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| Waits for the aching to subside
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| Where to find it no-one knows
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| And they say you’re doing fine
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| They’re just playing with your mind
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| And they never even know your name
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| But they all want you to shine
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| To glitter all the time
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| They all want a little taste of Champagne
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| Takes the subway early afternoon
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| Downtown to Eighth Avenue
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| To the Show Palace Theatre
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| Where Champagne bares all
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| In a low rent nude revue
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| In the darkness shadow people
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| Stare at Champagne glassy eyed
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| Takes the tips and imitates a smile
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| Waits for the aching to subside
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| And they say you’re doing fine
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| They’re just playing with your mind
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| And they never even know your name
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| But they all want you to shine
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| To glitter all the time
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| They all want a little taste of Champagne
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| Later in a room
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| On a little glass pipe
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| Sweet dreams to help him
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| Forget his life
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| He leans on the wall
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| Rolls back his eyes
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| And says to all the aching Goodbye |