| Nothing in the world is perfect
|
| Grin and bear it silently or yell into my ear
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| Complaints, it’s my department
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| Complaints, it’s my department
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| Everything you wear’s too tight and clashes with the candlelight
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| Just give it back, no questions asked
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| Nothing in the world is perfect
|
| Grin and bear it silently or yell into my ear
|
| Complaints, stereophonic
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| Complaints, it’s ironic
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| How they chatter, how they bore us like some avant- gardish chorus
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| Just give it back, no questions asked
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| I’ll dive off the mezzanine if one more points at crooked seams
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| A sign of shoddy workmanship, of Asiatic hands that slipped
|
| Just give it back, no questions asked
|
| Nothing in the world is perfect
|
| Grin and bear it silently or yell into my ear
|
| Complaints, there’s too many hours
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| Complaints, the bosses cower
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| Two weeks free from all complaining, it was due to our complaining
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| Take her to Spain, hear her complain
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| Now she says she is expecting
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| That’s my fault for not protecting
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| Her from all the risks of passion
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| She’s complaining, she’s old-fashioned
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| Just give it back, no questions asked
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| Complaints, it’s my department
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| Complaints, it’s my department |