| A necklace is love, a ring is love
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| A rock from some obnoxious little king is love
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| A diamond-studded star is love
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| An ugly black cigar is love
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| Everything you are is love
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| You would think it would embarrass
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| All the people here in Paris
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| To be thinking every minute of love
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| I don’t understand the Parisians
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| Making love every time they get the chance
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| I don’t understand the Parisians
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| Wasting every lovely night on romance
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| Any time, and under every tree in town
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| They’re in session two by two
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| What a crime, with all there is to see in town
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| They can’t find something else to do
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| I don’t understand how Parisians
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| Never tire of walking hand in hand
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| But they seem to love it
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| And speak highly of it
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| I don’t understand the Parisians
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| I don’t understand the Parisians
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| Making all this to-do about La’more
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| I don’t understand the Parisians
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| All this la-di-da is so immature
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| When it’s warm, they take a carriage ride at night
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| Close their eyes, and hug, and kiss
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| When It’s cold, they simply move inside at night
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| There must be more to life than this
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| I don’t understand the Parisians
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| Thinking love’s so miraculous and grand
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| But they rave about it, and won’t live without it
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| I don’t understand the Parisians |