| You played those notes a year ago
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| But nobody ever seems to mind
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| You’re so sweet
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| Upon request from her dad
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| She takes a seat centre stage
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| And starts to play
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| And when she’s done we take our roles as assigned
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| A few kids whined
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| But everyone behaved
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| So take the bench, little girl
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| And sing your little heart out
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| The fact the notes are right
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| Doesn’t mean she has any feeling
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| This year yields something new
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| A reason for the downcast eyes
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| The buttoned lip
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| The irony that rings so true
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| Is in the corner holding hands
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| That played the keys
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| That bored the kids and the adults alike
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| But made the teenagers laugh
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| At pure precociousness
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| So take the bench, little girl
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| And sing your little heart out
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| Take note, the facts are right
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| But she hasn’t any feeling
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| And we’ll be appealing
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| Upon request from her mom
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| She takes a seat centre stage
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| And starts to cry
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| Take the bench, little girl
|
| And sing your little heart out
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| Take the bench, little girl |