| There’s plenty of girls in the sea
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| And plenty of seeds in a lemon
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| The trick to try to stay free
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| When it’s never that great to begin with
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| The surgeon performs precise little cuts
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| But he’s never perfect, he’s thinking too much
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| And it’s really no comfort to me
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| There’s plenty of girls in the sea
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| There’s plenty of girls in the sea
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| And plenty of those are not women
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| As soon as you get yourself free
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| Then somebody stops you from swimming
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| The lifeguard admits, his whistle in hand
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| That it isn’t the muscle, and it isn’t the tan
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| No it’s whatever you want it to be
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| There’s plenty of girls in the sea
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| Ah the passionate painter will say with a brush:
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| «It's best to accept it and not make a fuss
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| Just cause the grass isn’t green»
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| Yeah, there’s plenty of girls in the sea
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| There’s plenty of girls in the sea
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| And plenty of clowns in the village
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| The trick is to try to be free
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| And tend to the void, don’t just fill it
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| The bartender concedes, from inside his vest
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| That none of the best ones were ever the best
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| So keep it short, simple and sweet
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| Cause there’s plenty of girls in the sea
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| Whenever you want there to be |