| I sometimes think that I’m too many people
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| Too many people, too many people
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| I sometimes think that I’m too many people
|
| Too many people, too many people at once
|
| The husband or the hedonist
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| The businessman or the communist
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| The artist or the showbiz creep
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| The lover or the nervous geek
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| The question of identity
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| Is one that’s always haunted me
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| Whoever I decide to be
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| Depends on who is with me
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| I sometimes think that I’m too many people
|
| Too many people, too many people
|
| I sometimes think that I’m too many people
|
| Too many people, too many people at once
|
| The tactless twit putting his foot in it
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| Or the sensitive soul who’s a role model
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| The urban jet setter never at home
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| Or the country recluse, just leave me alone
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| Extrovert or introvert
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| Love is kind and love hurts
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| Rebellion or conformity
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| What is my identity?
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| I sometimes think that I’m too many people
|
| Too many people, too many people
|
| I sometimes think that I’m too many people
|
| Too many people, too many people at once
|
| The intellectual and bon viveur, or
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| The naive simpleton, so immature
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| The devoted son and family man
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| Or the wicked uncle who doesn’t give a damn
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| How often these have tempted me
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| The question of identity
|
| Depends on what I’m meant to be
|
| I sometimes think that I’m too many people
|
| Too many people, too many people
|
| I sometimes think that I’m too many people
|
| Too many people, too many people at once
|
| I sometimes think that I’m too many people
|
| Too many people, too many people
|
| I sometimes think that I’m too many people
|
| Too many people, too many people at once |