| «Seven Days» was all she wrote
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| A kind of ultimatum note
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| She gave to me, she gave to me
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| When I thought the field had cleared
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| It seems another suit appeared
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| To challenge me, woe is me
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| Though I hate to make a choice
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| My options are decreasing mostly rapidly
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| Well we’ll see
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| I don’t think she’d bluff this time
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| I really have to make her mine
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| It’s plain to see
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| It’s him or me
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| Monday, I could wait till Tuesday
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| If I make up my mind
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| Wednesday would be fine
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| Thursday’s on my mind
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| Friday’d give me time
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| Saturday could wait
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| But Sunday’d be too late
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| The fact he’s over six feet ten
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| Might instill fear in other men
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| But not in me
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| The mighty flea
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| Ask if I am mouse or man
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| The mirror squeaked, away I ran
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| He’ll murder me
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| In time for his tea
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| Does it bother me at all
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| My rival is Neanderthal
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| It makes me think
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| Perhaps I need a drink
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| IQ is no problem here
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| We won’t be playing Scrabble for
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| Her hand I fear
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| I need that beer
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| Monday, I could wait till Tuesday
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| If I make up my mind
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| Wednesday would be fine
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| Thursday’s on my mind
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| Friday’d give me time
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| Saturday could wait
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| But Sunday’d be too late
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| Seven days will quickly go
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| The fact remains, I love her so
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| Seven days, so many ways
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| But I can’t run away
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| I can’t run away
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| Monday, I could wait till Tuesday
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| If I make up my mind
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| Wednesday would be fine, Thursday’s on my mind
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| Friday’d give me time, Saturday could wait
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| But Sunday’d be too late
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| (Sunday'd be too late)
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| Sunday’d be too late
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| Do I have to tell a story
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| Of a thousand rainy days since we first met
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| It’s a big enough umbrella
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| But it’s always me that ends up getting wet |