| I wish I had an angel
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| To tell me what I should do
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| With all these troubles
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| Stuck on me like Superglue
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| Angel, my spirit’s so tired
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| Oh, my spirit’s so tired, yeah
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| I wish I had an atlas
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| To show me where to go
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| To rid my self of these
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| Emotional clothes I’ve outgrown
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| Oh, my spirit’s so tired
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| Angel, my spirit’s so tired, yeah
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| But if I had an old fat Cadillac
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| I’d sit there in the back seat and stare all day
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| I’d never drive my old fat Cadillac
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| Where is there to go to get away?
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| «So, Mr. President, what should you and I
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| Propose to say… about this fallout business
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| Raining all over our parade
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| Maybe you should sit up front and I’ll sit here in the back
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| And we can both admire my old fat Cadillac
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| Look at that dash!
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| Look at that amazing upholstery, yes!
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| Think of the plans
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| Think of what a man can build with his hands…
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| And maybe, maybe we can rent a cable t.v., yes…
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| And plug it right in, right here in this beautiful back seat…
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| And maybe Mr. President
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| You could fix a big martini
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| Maybe you should fix a big martini, yeah»
|
| But if I had an old fat Cadillac
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| I’d sit there in the back seat and stare all day
|
| I’d never drive my old fat Cadillac
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| Where is there to go to get away? |