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There's a voice on the phone |
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Who just called in to say |
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"Mr Jones isn't home |
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He'll be gone for the day" |
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So he pulls down the blind |
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To adjust his disguise |
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But it's all in his mind |
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Which he proudly denies |
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I turn the boat back from the weir |
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Where to go from here |
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I can't hide from each face I see |
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Looking out from behind them is me |
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I'm attempting to guess |
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What they meant when they said |
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"Mr Jones and his guest |
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won't be using the bed" |
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So if I take the rap |
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While they stay out of sight |
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I can spring from the trap |
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When the timing is right |
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One minute I think I know what I mean |
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The next I hear voices inside disagree |
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Why are they laughing at me? |
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So I pick up the phone |
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Someone's asking to me |
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Is the real Mister Jones |
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Mister one, two or three? |
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So I say that they're not |
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But it's not as I say |
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'Cause they're all taht I've got |
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And I can't get away |
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And Alice wawes through the glass |
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Are we home at last |
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For tomorrow they'll be there you see |
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Locked away safe inside there with me |
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'Cause tomorrow they'll be here you'll see |
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Locked away safe inside they're with me |
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One minute I think I know what I mean |
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The next I hear voices inside disagree |
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Why are they laughing at me |