| There came a knock on my door
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| Fear can’t keep away
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| I’ve been standing up on my toes
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| Staring through the window pane
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| Now I’m a stranger to the world
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| But its only helped me dream
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| And Moma said baby get back you don’t want it
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| But it feels like Friday night, and I don’t want to miss a thing
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| I grew up a door down from either way
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| And I’ve been working late through the night
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| Towards something I don’t want to be
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| She said, «Baby hurry make it, not sure if I can take it»
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| And lonely ain’t the life for me
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| But it feels like Friday night…
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| This is what dreams are made of
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| I met mine a long time ago
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| They all said please don’t leave us
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| But it feels like Friday night- and I don’t want to miss a thing
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| So, get up and run
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| While you still got the strength
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| Child you got a little bit of life
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| And a lot of good things coming
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| And if they say work ain’t play;
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| That dreams are just forgotten
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| Stand up and walk away
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| This is your time, this is your Friday night
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| With both hands tied
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| Fingers crossed
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| Ain’t gonna move my body |
| You decide to stay inside
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| But I won’t
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| Because, I will die a Friday night dreamer
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| Come to life |