(Jimmy Webb)
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You can't erase the Paper Chase
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She'll make you play it
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In the bright merry morning
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She'll run and hide
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And leave you the paper promises
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Behind her as she runs across the square
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You can't win the race, She'll set the pace
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You will hear her laughing
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Just behind the foolish fences
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Throw back the gate and find the
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Piece of paper lying on the curbstone,
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But the lady won't be there.
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Later in the day,
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You'll be searching for a way
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To let her know you're ready
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For her little game to end
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Cause it's getting dark, and then-
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You'll see her face, a glimpse of lace
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And you'll go running
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Through the last sweet dying daydream
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Calling her name, but she's been home an hour,
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Laughing at the mirror
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As she combs her paper hair.
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Paper Chase
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| Art Garfunkel |