| there’s a tall, a mulatto, boy I know
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| and he comes to every party -- he stands alone
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| viewing them the rest, from the corner of his glance
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| it gets so clear, he’s not judging anyone
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| the way his arms float around his cage, he’s caged
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| canary sings, silently rings, his voice to rage
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| the way they stop and stare, the way they turn their heads
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| it’s enough to make him want to run away
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| but he stays he stands his ground
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| and I’m so lame
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| the way I condescend without ever knowing his name
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| he keeps it in a box, hangs it from his ear
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| looks at everyone without the slightest fear
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| it’s making me so ashamed
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| slender body, slip through his glance
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| I don’t give him a single chance
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| the way he’s rocking back and forth
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| makes a buzzing in my ear
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| constantly reminding me that I never stop to hear
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| him say hello, hello
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| and I’m so lame
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| like a moth bumping off his godless flame
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| I cannot condescend or even apprehend, what comes over me when I see his shameless face
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| so rage, please rage, against me beat me down, beat me down, forgive me for what I’ve done, I’m so lame, I’m so lame, I’m so lame
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| so lame, so lame, so lame |