Once I was a sentimental thing;
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threw my heart away each spring.
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Now a spring romance
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hasn't got a chance.
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Promised my first dance to winter.
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All I've got to show's a splinter
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for my little fling.
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Spring this year has got me feeling
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like a horse that never left the post.
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I lie in my room
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staring up at the ceiling.
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Spring can really hang you up the most.
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Morning's kiss wakes trees and flowers,
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and to them I'd like to drink a toast.
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But I walk in the park
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just to kill the lonely hours.
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Spring can really hang you up the most.
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All afternoon the birds twitter-twitt.
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I know the tune. This is love, this is it.
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Heard it before
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and don't I know the score.
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And I've decided that spring is a bore.
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Love seems sure around the new year.
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Now it's April. Love is just a ghost.
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Spring arrived on time,
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only what became of you, dear?
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Spring can really hang you up the most.
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Spring can really hang you up the most.
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Love came my way. I thought it would last.
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We had our day, now it's all in the past.
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Spring came along, a season of song,
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full of sweet promise
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but something went wrong.
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Doctors once prescribed a tonic.
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Sulfur and molasses was the dose.
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Didn't help one bit.
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My condition must be chronic.
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Spring can really hang you up the most.
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All alone, the party is over.
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Old man winter was a gracious host.
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But when you keep praying
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for snow to hide the clover,
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spring can really hang you up the most.
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Spring Can Really Hang You Up The Most
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Bette Midler |