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Some people want stars in eyes |
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Some people want eyes in stars |
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They've been like that for years |
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They've been like that for years |
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I suspect they're just if if if |
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I just want room to live |
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There's a new club in town |
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Plenty of space to posy around |
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It's a copy of the peppermint lounge |
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(i'll stick around the center always |
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Even if it is run down.) |
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Some people wanna be joining the club |
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Thinks to be on the clientele is big.* |
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I just want room to live |
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Foreigners and experts go in |
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And through my place |
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Turn my home into a museum |
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Like the murder squad |
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They scan the room |
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For the well of inspiration |
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They don't tolerate ordinary folk |
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And folk look at me strange |
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But i'll give them this at least: |
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They pay for what they eat |
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Visitors and peripherers never give |
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I just want room to live |
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Some people think happy is way to live |
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Some men want to cram up to women |
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I've been down that street before |
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It just makes meat out of the soul |
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There's a d.h.s.s. volvo estate |
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Right outside my door |
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With a moody blues cassette on the dashboard |
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There's no hate to the point i give |
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I just want room to live |
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Violence is just waiting for its due |
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Some people want money around |
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You can tell, they're the ones that never buy a round |
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And some men want reporters with no wig |
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And some people cannot hold their drink |
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They've got to tell you what they think |
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And some men want reporters with no wig |
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I just want room to live |