| Myla Goldberg sets a steady hand upon her brow
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| Myla Goldberg hangs a crooked foot all upside down
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| It comes around it comes around
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| It comes around it comes around
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| Pretty hands do pretty things when pretty times arise
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| Seraphim and seaweed swim where stick-limbed Myla lies
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| It comes around it comes around
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| It comes around it comes around
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| Still now you’re waiting to grow
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| Inside you’re old
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| Sew wings to your pigeon toes
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| Put paper to pen
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| to spell out «Eliza»
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| We begin with sticky shins make sticky then our shoes
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| Shoes beget to clothes and hat 'til sticky’s sticking too
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| Finiculi finicula finiculi finicula
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| Listen in as shin-kicked Jim relates his story sad
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| About a boy who kicked until his shins were all but rubberbands
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| But now
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| I know New York I need New York
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| I know I need unique New York
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| Still now you’re waiting to grow
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| Inside you’re old
|
| Sew wings to your pigeon toes
|
| Put paper to pen
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| to spell out «Eliza»
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| Eliza
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| Eliza |