| I am sitting in the morning
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| At the diner on the corner
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| I am waiting at the counter
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| For the man to pour the coffee
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| And he fills it only halfway
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| And before I even argue
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| He is looking out the window
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| At somebody coming in
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| `It is always nice to see you`
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| Says the man behind the counter
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| To the woman who has come in
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| She is shaking her umbrella
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| And I look the other way
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| As they are kissing their hellos
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| I`m pretending not to see them
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| Instead I pour the milk
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| I open up the paper
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| There`s a story of an actor
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| Who had died while he was drinking
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| It was no one I had heard of
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| And I`m turning to the horoscope
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| And looking for the funnies
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| When I`m feeling someone watching me
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| And so I raise my head
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| There`s a woman on the outside
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| Looking inside does she see me?
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| No she does not really see me
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| Cause she sees her own reflection
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| And I`m trying not to notice
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| That she`s hitching up her skirt
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| And while she`s straightening her stockings
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| Her hair is getting wet
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| Oh, this rain it will continue
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| Through the morning as I`m listening
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| To the bells of the cathedral
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| I am thinking of your voice... |