| Redheaded girl
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| Cover up your eyes with your hands
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| Caught taking coins from the purse
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| Wake up the epileptics and the outcasts
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| When you hear your name called
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| And there’s a yellow ribbon in your hair
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| Wicked child, you’re dancing with girls
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| Remember when we were children?
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| Remember when we were young?
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| When we believed in all those invisible things?
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| And there’s a world in your words
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| Fairytales at your fingertips
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| A black ribbon in your hair
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| Dancing rings around trees
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| In meadows and fields
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| Remember boys on bicycles
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| Tell the young men
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| To put away their swords
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| And Spanish dancing
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| Turn up the violins
|
| To drown out the cowboys and the Indians
|
| We’d rather stand on our heads
|
| And pose like like pinup girls
|
| Make trampolines of our beds
|
| But the shadows took our sisters
|
| And the waters did claim them
|
| Schoolgirls in pleated skirts and Mary Janes
|
| Carry your suitcase
|
| Wherever you may go
|
| And your typewriter
|
| Weave a tapestry
|
| Of winding narrow streets
|
| And move into the light
|
| Cause we’re fancy free
|
| Yeah, we’re fancy free
|
| We’ll stand on our head
|
| Stand on our heads
|
| Stand on our heads
|
| We’ll be standing on our heads
|
| Mmm, Mmmm, Mmmm
|
| Standing on our heads |