| She was once mine
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| That smile that shines
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| From the glossy magazine that’s stuck inside the Sunday Times
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| She was so sweet on Christmas Eve
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| With the snow set deep
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| When we went walking through the pines
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| I had just been fired and her first offer had arrived
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| And the new year would see her flying far away from me
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| Though I didn’t know it at the time
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| With outstretched hands
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| Now she commands
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| A famous figure for every picture
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| And she stands up strong and she demands
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| And they deliver
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| Yeah, she’s a fixture
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| And it’s a mixture of dumb jealousy and fear
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| That I might feel should she appear
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| Just like it hasn’t been three years
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| And there’s a distance to her voice over the phone
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| And that’s because she stands alone
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| While I’m still sitting here
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| Girl, you see me here on another quiet night
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| I will wait until another indistinguishable day arrives
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| I’ll decide where the light’s even and bright
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| Where my life’s sweet as it’s slightly, disappointedly, just gliding softly by
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| And you won’t wait for me in some secluded stand of trees
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| Some Christmas Eve, some God was kind enough to set aside
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| Although I’d love you too, I’m proud of you
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| God knows I’m feeling really stupid now
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| For ever having said goodbye
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| During the fight
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| I said, «Yeah right»
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| When you insisted that I visit, that you’d write
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| Now, I know you’re working hard
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| So I never hear from you, and that’s fine
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| You look the same on TV as when you were mine
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| I walk in from the kitchen and I finger the remote control
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| I watch you from the distance, you go walking through the terminal
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| I remember ever instance, when you stung me
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| Oh, you’re so lovely
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| Oh, you’re so smart
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| So, go turn their heads, go knock them dead, go break their hearts
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| Go break their hearts
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| Baby, break their hearts
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| And I know you will |