| I’m nervous and upset
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| because this girl I’ve never met,
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| I get to meet tonight at eight.
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| I’m taking her to dinner
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| at a charming old cafe,
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| but who can eat tonight at eight?
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| It’s early in the morning and our date
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| is not til eight o’clock tonight
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| and already i can see
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| what a nightmare this whole day will be.
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| I haven’t slept a wink.
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| I only think about her approaching tet a tet
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| tonight at eight.
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| I feel a combination of depression and elation,
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| what a state to wait till eight.
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| Three more minutes,
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| two more seconds,
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| ten more hours to go.
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| In spite of all I’ve written
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| she may not be very smitten
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| and my hopes, perhaps,
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| may all collapse — kapoot
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| tonight at eight.
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| I wish I knew exactly how I’ll act
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| and what will happen
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| when we dine tonight at eight.
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| I know I’ll drop the silverware
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| but will i spill the water or the wine
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| tonight at eight?
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| Tonight I’ll walk right up and sit right down
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| beside the smartest girl in town.
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| and then it’s anybody’s guess.
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| More and more I’m breathing less and less.
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| In my imagination
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| I can see our conversation
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| taking shape
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| tonight at eight.
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| I’ll sit there saying absolutely nothing
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| or I’ll jabber like an ape
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| tonight at eight
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| Two more minutes,
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| three more seconds,
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| ten more hours to go.
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| I’ll know when this is done
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| if something has ended or begun
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| and if it goes alright
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| who knows, I might propose
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| tonight at eight. |