| How can I explain how I feel
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| I’m like a little kid running at her heel
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| She’s giving me looks like she thinks I’m a snappy dresser
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| How can I tell what I should plan
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| I’ve never kissed a girl or held her hand
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| She’s waiting for me to move, I’ve got to impress her
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| I play guitar in a mainstream band
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| I’ve got three red jackets and a Fender jazz
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| I’ve got Charlie Parker’s autograph
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| The girl I moved with’s turned up on grass
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| She moved her seat next to mine
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| But I’m just playing for time
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| I ain’t got the guts to let her see the real me My confidence eroded away
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| Over hearing what children say
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| So I’m trying to make myself seem more appealing
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| I know your man is in to playing jazz bass
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| I tried that myself but I need more space
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| Like to soar and fly like the big Birdman
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| When I met him last week he shook my hand
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| Every lie I tell weaves another spell, another road that ends up blind
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| The Bird that shook my hand was a wanted man, I think you knew that all the time
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| I came so close to having you for me But I lost you in the fantasy
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| I pretended to myself that you were mine already
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| You waited but deep in your eyes
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| You were watching me so wordly wise
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| Then you changed the subject and talked about going steady
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| I’ve got 200 records and a big hi-fi
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| I sit and listen to Ella and Basey all night
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| I played modern jazz of every variety
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| You could come and listen but we close tonight |