Dear orthodox,
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I can't control my feelings,
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And who hit me?
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I just might be
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Coming round the bush
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And my stilts, they began cracking
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Subsequently pushed
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And I looked to see that it was she
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Just some abandoned little crook like me
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Adieu, adieu, and fare thee well
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This was the ending, please
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Oh, whoa...
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I was attached on bended knee
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But I declined my leave
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But who could blame
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A fraction of her being?
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She is cheesy, she is scrawny
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With her uncanny styling
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I'm teasing, she is pleasing
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She just has no wit
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And I'm sorry I don't have her face
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And I'm probably gonna lose this race
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There is no doubt she's such a mouse
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With such an abstract grace
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Oh, whoa...
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There is no cure, I am sure
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For these ten cent blues
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And then she chose to dissect me
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And I was casted into poverty
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But I did not agree with her
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She said, "Now, you've got nerve,"
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But I don't care if I'm granted
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For all these things
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If I were one among this crowd
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Would you call that defeat?
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In a way it's making me crazy
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In a sense that it's making me stronger
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A likely chance, and it's probably proven
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In the end we'll all walk away
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Shaking hands on the doormat
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I salute you, sir
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A stranger and a happy fit
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I'm glad I'm part of it
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And that I saw it all
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-----------------
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Ten Cent Blues
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Eisley |