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It's half past eight, and I'm waiting
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In a beautiful place
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Anticipating everything we'll do
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And all we'll say.
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Till your father sees you again
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Now I don't know just what you're doing
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Is it me or him
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That you're screwing?
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But I don't care and you don't care
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When you're here
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Now the storm is here
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I see you running
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Your face full of tears.
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So red and burning
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And I can't work out
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How you spend
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Another day with him
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Just say the word
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You know I'll do it
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I'm waiting for you
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Just let me do it
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And we can run away to another place.
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Less full of fear.
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-----------------
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The Function Of The Orgasm
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White Town |