| All the birds roll their eyes at me
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| As i walk as a peasant down the street
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| As i pass avenues and trendy bars
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| There’s a bumpy sound and the bouncer looks dumb
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| And the people inside look just like Kirsten Dunst and Tom
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| Don’t talk to us, we’re so pretty
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| And you, you look like Tom Petty
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| I am trying to be mad as hell
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| But i end up getting drunk instead
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| In an Indian restaurant in my part of town
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| Where the clientele’s young with fake ID’s
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| But the owner acts as if he has no idea
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| And as they put your name on the guestlist
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| My heart is shread like confetti
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| Take those silly shoes off
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| Go back to summer camp
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| And don’t ever come back here
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| You look like you live in a tent
|
| Take those silly shoes off
|
| Go back to summer camp
|
| And don’t ever come back here
|
| You look like you live in a tent
|
| I am wasted, yes, i’m drunk as hell
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| The people look like cavalries
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| Hundred marching home from battlefields
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| To the colosseum, the home of the dream
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| The 7−11 we are open until you feel the pain
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| Oh taxi maybe, oh baby!
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| Yes, i guess i’m feeling a bit crazy
|
| Take those silly shoes off
|
| Go back to summer camp
|
| And don’t ever come back here
|
| You look like you live in a tent
|
| Hey you, on the nightbus
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| What’s the size of your fries?
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| I guess it’s the only thing we have in common tonight
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| Hey you, on the nightbus
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| What’s the size of your fries?
|
| I guess it’s the only thing we have in common tonight |