| The cops are hanging around the house
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| The cars outside look like they’ve got the blues
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| The moon don’t know if it’s day or night
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| Everybody’s creeping around with plastic covers on their shoes
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| You’re making coffee for everyone concerned
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| Someone points to this and someone points to that
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| Everyone is saying that you should lie down
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| But you ain’t having none of that
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| And I say to the sleepy summer rain
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| With a complete absence of pain
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| You might think I’m crazy
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| But I’m still in love with you
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| Hide your eyes, hide your tears,
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| Hide your face, my love
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| Hide your ribbons, hide your bows
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| Hide your coloured cotton gloves
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| Hide your trinkets, hide your treasures
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| Hide your neatly scissored locks
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| Hide your memories, hide them all
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| Stuff them in a cardboard box
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| Or throw them into the street below
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| Leave them to the wind and the rain and the snow
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| For you might think I’m crazy
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| But I’m still in love with you
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| Call me up, baby, and I will answer your call
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| Call me up but remember I am no use to you at all
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| Now, you’re standing at the top of the stairs
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| One hand on the banister, a flower in your hair
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| The other one resting on your hip
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| Without a solitary care
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| I fall to sleep in the summer rain
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| With no single memory of pain
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| And you might think I’m crazy
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| But I’m still in love with you |