| Walk across the courtyard, towards the library
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| I can hear the insects buzz and the leaves 'neath my feet
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| Ramble up the stairwell into the hall of books
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| Since we got the interweb, these hardly get used
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| Duck into the men’s room, combing through my hair
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| When God gave us mirrors, he had no idea
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| Looking for a lesson in the periodicals
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| There, I spy you listening to the AM radio
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| Karen of The Carpenters, singing in the rain
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| Another lovely victim of the mirror’s evil way
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| It’s not like you’re not trying, with a pencil in your hair
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| To defy the beauty the good Lord put in there
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| Simple little bookworm
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| Buried underneath
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| Is the sexiest librarian
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| Take off those glasses and let down your hair for me
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| So, I watch you through the bookcase, imagining a scene
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| You and I had dinner, spending time, then you sleep
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| And what then would I say to you, lying there in bed?
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| These words with a kiss I would plant in your head
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| What is it inside our heads that makes us do the opposite?
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| Makes us do the opposite of what’s right for us
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| Cause everything’d be great, and everything’d be good
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| If everybody gave like everybody could
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| Sweetest little bookworm
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| Hidden underneath
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| Is the sexiest librarian
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| Take off those glasses and let down your hair for me
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| Take off those glasses and let down your hair for me
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| Simple little beauty, heaven in your breath
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| Simplest of pleasures, the world at its best |