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Now people always come around |
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But they don't always stick around |
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I run a comb across my head |
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I wish my hair would settle down |
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The clock I see is running slow |
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The batteries are running low |
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I run a comb across my head |
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And it feels the same like it did before |
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You're just another first footer across my door |
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And little less care (hair?) than I had last year |
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But it doesn't worry me because I |
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I have no fear |
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Here |
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|
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The car I see is painted black |
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I'm steering (staring) at the driver's back |
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He runs a comb across his head |
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And it feels the same like it did before |
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You're just another fresh fare across his door |
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And little less care than he had last year |
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But it doesn't worry him because he |
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He has no fear |
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Here, here |
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|
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Now people always come around |
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But they don't always stick around |
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They run a comb across your head |
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I wish my hair would settle down |
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The clock I see is running slow |
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We've only got three years to go |
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We run our combs across our heads |
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And it feels the same like it did before |
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You're just another first footer across the door |
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And little less care than we took last year |
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But it doesn't worry us because we |
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We have no fear |
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Here |
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Have we |
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We have no fear |
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Have we |
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We have no fear |