| Is it a Belly of Muscles I see shaping underneath that
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| turtleneck?
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| I never ever dreamt having the rusty trunk of a car
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| against my Backside…
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| That’s poison for my piles, the street is glimmering,
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| 'cause it had rained all
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| night.
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| Please, do not think that I don’t appreciate your
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| generous Offer of a Ride…
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| home.
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| I am curious now, how many pirouettes can a straight
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| Man like you spin,
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| until his Compass-points all begin to blur, and his
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| Needle finally gives in?
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| Am I expected now to do my best and try to catch you
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| when you fall?
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| But you’re a heavy Guy and like this we’ll only end up
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| lying on the floor.
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| Look, what the Rain has done,
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| snow-white has scattered her Mirrors like petals on the
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| Ground.
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| So I sense a one-eyed Serpend
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| rising slowly now from behind this old thundering
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| Cloud?
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| Was it a trick of the Evening-star,
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| or had I been blinded by the passing lights,
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| Could it be that I really saw myself reflected in his
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| green-grey Eyes?
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| It’s hard to waltz precissely when his towering stature
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| casts its Shadow all
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| over me.
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| But since he’s leading now (anyway), I might just as
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| well step onto his feet… |