| I brush my teeth, and look in the mirror
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| And laugh out loud as I’m beaming from ear to ear
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| I’d rather pick flowers, instead of fights
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| And rather than flaunt my style
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| I’d flash you a smile, of clean pearly whites
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| I’ve been to the dentist a thousand times so I know the drill
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| I smooth my hair, sit back in the chair
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| But somehow I still get the chills
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| «Have a seat» he says pleasantly
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| As he shakes my hand, and practically laughs at me
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| «Open up nice and wide» he says peering in
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| And with a smirk he says «Don't have a fit, this’ll just pinch a bit»
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| As he tries not to grin
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| When hygienists leave on long vacations
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| That’s when dentists scream and lose their patience
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| Talking only brings the toothaches on
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| Because I say the stupidest things
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| So if my resolve goes South
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| I’ll swallow my pride with an aspirin, and shut my mouth
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| Golf and alcohol don’t mix
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| And that’s why I don’t drink and drive
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| Because, good grief I’d knock out my teeth
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| And have to kiss my smile goodbye
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| I’ve been to the dentist a thousand times so I know the drill
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| I smooth my hair, sit back in the chair
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| But somehow I still get the chills |