| Let me finish before I begin
|
| Speakers cornered by this London Djinn
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| Gift of the gab, with no sleep
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| Speed bumps speed dating, all week
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| She’s got a rush hour glass figure
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| And the city boys picking up the tab for her
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| She’s a carnival flower
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| And she’s watered by the songs the streets sing her
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| Neon lights are the stars of the city
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| She’s got teeth, red lips, red lights no pity
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| So I guess we’ll do it her way
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| So I’ll guess we’ll do it, her way
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| Her immigrant parents, night and day
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| Poured their lives into this London clay
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| She’s Nigerian, Spanish, a Turkish delight
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| Jamaican wedding to an Israelite
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| She a cockney trouble and strife
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| She’s got muscles and cockles and special fried rice
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| If she’s past the prime and her life
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| Why do they still check her out from the corner of their eyes?
|
| Neon lights are the stars of the city
|
| She’s got teeth red lips, red lights no pity
|
| So I guess we’ll do it her way
|
| So I guess we’ll do it her way
|
| Neon lights are the stars of the city
|
| Constellations of her rough romantic pity
|
| So I guess we’ll do it her way
|
| So I guess we’ll do it, her way
|
| With a voice like that
|
| She’s calling with a promise and a smile that she might pay back
|
| With a voice like that
|
| She’s got a rush hour glass figure
|
| And the city boys picking up the tab for her
|
| She’s a carnival flower
|
| And she’s watered by the songs the streets sing her
|
| Neon lights are the stars of the city
|
| She’s got teeth red lips, red lights no pity
|
| So I guess we’ll do it her way
|
| So I guess we’ll do it her way
|
| Neon lights are the stars of the city
|
| Constellations of her rough romantic pity
|
| So I guess we’ll do it her way
|
| So I guess we’ll do it, her way |