I'm just a shy romantic with my eyes on the loose
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I'm in a overcoarted way
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A poet in a garret
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You know some people say
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Standing at the barline with my lip on the curl
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I'm with the other lean and lear
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My finger on the pulse
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And my hand around a beer
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Ah, Ahh, well I don't wanna know what's going round here
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Ah, Ahh, it's just a matter of time, hold it under light
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Ah, Ahh, I've got to get away, to get away, to get away
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The singer in the band, he sweat on a pose
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And he's really such a jerk
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Thinks he can call me stupid
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Because he gets a lot of work
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I'm standing in the background, got my arms on the fold
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And every dog's gonna have it's day
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The New Musical Express and my own 4-way P.A.
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Well, I've been reading those biographies in paperback
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I've got a death-wish that I can't expalin
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I've been working on the petulance
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And the urchin took my name
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Unpublished Critics
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Australian Crawl |