| Some people want stars in eyes
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| Some people want eyes in stars
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| They’ve been like that for years
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| They’ve been like that for years
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| I suspect they’re just if if if
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| I just want room to live
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| There’s a new club in town
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| Plenty of space to posy around
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| It’s a copy of the Peppermint Lounge
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| (I'll stick around the center always
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| Even if it is run down.)
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| Some people wanna be joining the club
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| Thinks to be on the clientele is big.*
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| I just want room to live
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| Foreigners and Experts go in
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| And through my place
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| Turn my home into a museum
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| Like the murder squad
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| They scan the room
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| For the well of inspiration
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| They don’t tolerate ordinary folk
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| And folk look at me strange
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| But I’ll give them this at least:
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| They pay for what they eat
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| Visitors and peripherers never give
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| I just want room to live
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| Some people think happy is way to live
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| Some men want to cram up to women
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| I’ve been down that street before
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| It just makes meat out of the soul
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| There’s a D.H.S.S. |
| Volvo estate
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| Right outside my door
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| With a Moody Blues cassette on the dashboard
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| There’s no hate to the point I give
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| I just want room to live
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| Violence is just waiting for its due
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| Some people want money around
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| You can tell, they’re the ones that never buy a round
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| And some men want reporters with no wig
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| And some people cannot hold their drink
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| They’ve got to tell you what they think
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| And some men want reporters with no wig
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| I just want room to live |