| I’m susceptible to stars in the skies,
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| I’m incurably romantic.
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| If they’re told to me all covered with sighs,
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| The wildest of lies seem true.
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| Each time a love bird sings,
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| I have no defenses,
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| My heart is off on wings,
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| Along with my senses!
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| I’m a setup for the moon when it’s bright,
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| I’m incurably romantic,
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| And I shouldn’t be allowed out at night
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| With anyone quite like you.
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| But oh, your arms are nice,
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| And it would be awfully nice
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| If you turned out to be Starry eyed like me,
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| And incurably romantic too.
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| But oh, your arms are nice,
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| And it would be awfully nice
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| If you turned out to be Starry eyed like me,
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| And incurably romantic too. |