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She may be the face I can't forget
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The trace of pleasure or regret
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Maybe my treasure or the prize I have to pay
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She may be the song that summer sings
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Maybe the children autumn brings
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Maybe a hundred different things
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Within the measure of a day
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She may be the beauty or the beast
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Maybe the famine or the feast
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May turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell
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She may be the mirror of my dreams
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A smile reflected in a stream
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She may not be what she may seem
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Inside her shell....
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She, who always seems so happy in a crowd
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Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
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No one's allowed to see them when they cry
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She maybe the love that cannot hope to last
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May come to leap from shadows in the past
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That I remember 'till the day I die
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She maybe the reason I survive
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The why and wherefore kind of life
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The one I care for through the rough and ready years
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Me, I'll take the laughter and your tears
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And make them all my souvenirs
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And when she goes I've got to be
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The meaning of my life is
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She....She
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Oh, she....
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She (¿µÈ ÁÖÁ¦°¡)
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| Elvis Costello |