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Oh, Roxy, don't you love me? |
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Is it because |
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I'm American? |
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Maybe it's because |
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I don't grope you and your friends |
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Like the fool behind you now dancing halfway down your pants |
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Somewhere near the border of |
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Spain and |
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FranceA bottle of bad red wine in my head |
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Sixty francs to look like a fool and dance |
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Mechanics understand not what |
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I saidThinking 'bout the time that |
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I had, how sad |
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Her one word shirt describes my plight in red |
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And her name is a re-occurring theme |
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Start a move that everyone knows, the awkward pose |
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And in the meantime her eyes finding me |
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Reluctantly |
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I start the approach, her eyes they glow |
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But it's not glee, it's fear, that's why she flees |
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Sing of girls |
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I wish that |
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I knewHer eyes rung true, her one word shirt now stabbing sparkling blue |
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And her name is a barely flickering flame |
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Oh, Roxy, don't you love me? |
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Is it because |
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I'm American? |
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Maybe it's because |
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I don't grope you and your friends |
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Like the fool behind you now dancing halfway down your pants |
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Roxy's spinning around or is it me that's down? |
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How many fingers do |
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I see? Is it three by now |
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Stands on top of the stairs and screams for who, who cares? |
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All that matters now is my eyes like |
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Apollo's, become clear |
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Somewhere near the border of pain and romance |
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Her name is undetermined as of yet |
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Potential for a |
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Roxy again has always been |
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The hardest part to get out of my head |
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Comes full circle all in the end, |
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I hopeCould one-word shirts in songs be just a joke? |
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And her name is a never ever ending game |
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Oh, Roxy, don't you love me? |
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Is it because |
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I'm American? |
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Maybe it's because |
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I don't grope you and your friends |
|
Like the fool behind you now dancing halfway down your pants |
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Oh, Roxy, don't you love me? |
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Why do I got to be |
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American?Maybe it's because |
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I don't grope you and your friends |
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Like the fool behind you now dancing halfway down your pants |
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Oh, Roxy, yeah, yeah, yeah |
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Oh, Roxy [Incomprehensible] down your pants |