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(Even the wolf can learn, |
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even the sheep can turn, |
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even the frog become at last the prince.) |
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No more imagined insults |
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and no more bloated pride - |
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I'll see you at the wedding, |
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I'll see you on the other side |
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and I'll hold my peace forever |
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but I'll hold my passion more... |
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I'll be holding the door |
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and waiting for the princess - |
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I could say I'm waiting for the world |
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but when it comes right down to it |
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I'm simply waiting for the girl. |
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On through the ring of changes |
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I'll be at my side in a single bound, |
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lost and found... |
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looking to be lost and found. |
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La Rossa extends her hands - |
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in the morning light the stigmata don't show. |
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She's already up, making plans; |
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she thinks it's maybe time he ought to go. |
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And she's friendly like it's a service |
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but she's ringing round his head |
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though he knows she has no further use for him |
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still he feels like he's raised from the dead. |
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Out to the cold grey daylight, never even wondering, of course, |
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if one moment of perfect passion is worth a lifetime of remorse. |
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So it's no more empty promises |
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and no more idle threats; |
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no more "if only"s |
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and no more "and yet"s; |
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no more wishes for the future, |
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no more denials of the past: |
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I'm free at last, |
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I'm in love at last. |
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I'm lost and found.... |
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(Put on your red dress, baby. |
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'Cause we're going out tonight, |
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put on your high-heeled sneakers, |
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Everything's going to be alright?) |