| In a room with a view on the thirty-third floor, the ashtrays overflow
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| A banker’s daughter gets up from the bed and stares at the streets below
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| The day breaks and the sun comes up, the night has been so kind
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| As she turns back to her sleeping man, the thoughts rush through her mind
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| What would daddy do if he saw me now?
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| He might not recognise me anyhow
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| My long black hair is curled and blonde
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| And my innocence is long long gone
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| Fathers and daughters have a love that’s blind
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| Never quite understanding while still being kind
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| Fathers and daughters can be so far away
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| One lives for the nights and one for the days
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| Fathers and daughters they speak of respect
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| But their conversations don’t always connect
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| Fathers and daughters have a love that’s blind
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| Never quite understanding while still being kind
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| Fathers and daughters can be so far away
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| One lives for the nights and one for the days
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| In a room with a view on the thirty-third floor, the phone is off the hook
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| And a banker’s daughter goes back to bed, seduced with just one look
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| The sun sets and the city lights up, the night flights burn the sky
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| As she reaches out for her sleeping man, she says with a smile
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| What would daddy do if he saw me now?
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| He might not recognize me anyhow
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| My long black hair is curled and blonde
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| And my innocence is long gone
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| Fathers and daughters, fathers and daughters
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| Fathers and daughters, fathers and daughters |