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My face is finished, my body's gone. |
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And I can't help but think standin' up here |
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in all this applause and gazin' down |
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at all the young and the beautiful. |
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With their questioning eyes. |
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That I must above all things love myself. |
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I saw a girl in the crowd, |
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I ran over I shouted out, |
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I asked if I could take her out, |
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But she said that she didn't want to. |
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I changed the sheets on my bed, |
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I combed the hairs across my head, |
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I sucked in my gut and still she said |
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That she just didn't want to. |
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I read her Eliot, read her Yeats, |
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I tried my best to stay up late, |
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I fixed the hinges on her gate, |
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But still she just never wanted to. |
|
I bought her a dozen snow-white doves, |
|
I did her dishes in rubber gloves, |
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I called her Honeybee, I called her Love, |
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But she just still didn't want to. |
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She just never wants to. |
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Dammit! |
|
I sent her every type of flower, |
|
I played her guitar by the hour, |
|
I patted her revolting little chihuahua, |
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But still she just didn't want to. |
|
I wrote a song with a hundred lines, |
|
I picked a bunch of dandelions, |
|
I walked her through the trembling pines, |
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But she just even then didn't want to. |
|
She just never wants to. |
|
I thought I'd try another tack, |
|
I drank a litre of cognac, |
|
I threw her down upon her back, |
|
But she just laughed and said |
|
that she just didn't want to. |
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I thought I'd have another go, |
|
I called her mah little O, |
|
I felt like Marcel Marceau |
|
must feel when she said |
|
that she just never wanted to. |
|
She just didn't want to. |
|
I got the no pussy blues. |
|
I got the no pussy blues. |
|
I got the no pussy blues. |
|
I got the no pussy blues. |
|
I got the no pussy blues. |
|
I got the no pussy blues. |
|
I got the no pussy blues. |