What do I hear, what do I hear?
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Chit-chat, and clinking glass
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Cheap talk, a lady's laugh
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After hour
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What do I see, what do I see?
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Some sunken hideaway
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Where people go to play
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After hour
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There I'll spend the night
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Meeting fancy thins
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At bistros and old haunts
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Trying very hard to sin
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Then it is day end in a way
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The pattern's much the same
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In-spots, a matinee
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Every day
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Blend with the crowd, blend with the loud
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Hypnotic ebb and flow
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Until the day goes slowly
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Into night
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See the same old crowd
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At bistros and old haunts
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'Til the lights grow dim,
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The not-so-subtle hint to be gone
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Chorus:
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Thank God it's not Christmas
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When there is only you
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And nothing else to do
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Thank God it's not Christmas
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Where there's just you to do
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The rest is closed to public view
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Caroling kids, caroling kids
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A trifle premature, in tones so rich and pure and crystaline
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Call for the day, the popular day
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It's fast approaching now
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But will the mood allow
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One dissent
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If this were the Seine
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We'd be very suave
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But it's just the rain
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Washing down the boulevard
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(Chorus)
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Popular days, the popular ways
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Are for the chosen few
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Not meant for me and you
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Obviously
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Popular nights, poplar rites
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Great things to say and do
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Aren't said or done by you
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Obviously
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If this were Seine
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We'd be very suave
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But it's just the rain
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Washing down the boulevard
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-----------------
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Thank God It's Not Christmas
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Sparks |