| Here she comes, she’s all dressed up in daisies,
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| Half the time, you’d swear that she is crazy.
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| Flowered drinks and a low-cut dress,
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| That’s the way I know her best.
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| She says she’s lonely, how could she be?
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| Every night she’s got company.
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| Oh Marie,
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| I sure hope you’re happy.
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| Oh Marie,
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| What about me, Marie.
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| She likes the way she looks in her Camaro,
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| She likes lingerie but he prefers the sombrero.
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| She’s so famous on the block,
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| She stumbles home around four o’clock.
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| She claims the guys are hard to please,
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| She wears teen perfume behind her knees.
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| Oh Marie,
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| I sure hope you’re happy.
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| Oh Marie,
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| What about me, Marie.
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| All day long she fills me up with dogma,
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| She’s all magazines and benzedrine and vodka.
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| There was one man she truly loved,
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| He took everything but her bear-skin rug.
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| And now and then it’s clear to me,
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| That need is love and love is need.
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| Oh Marie,
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| I sure hope you’re happy.
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| Oh Marie,
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| What about me, Marie.
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| Oh Marie,
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| What are you looking for?
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| Oh Marie,
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| Always an open door.
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| What are you looking for? |