Do you wanna be an angel
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Do you wanna be a star
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Do you wanna play some magic
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On my guitar
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Do you wanna be a poet
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Do you wanna be my string
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You could be anything
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Do you wanna be the lover of another undercover
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You could even be the
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Man on the moon
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Do you wanna be the player
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Do you wanna be the string
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Let me tell you something
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It just don't mean a thing
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You see it really doesn't matter
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When you're buried in disguise
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By the dark glass on your eyes
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Though your flesh has crystalliZed
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Still...you turn me on
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Do you wanna be the pillow
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Where I lay my head
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Do you wanna be the feathers
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Lying IN my bed
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Do you wanna be the cover
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Of a magazine
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Create a scene
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Every day a little sadder
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A little madder
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Someone get me a ladder
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Do you wanna be the singer
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Do you wanna be the song
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Let me tell you something
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You just couldn't be more wrong
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You see I really have to tell you
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That it all gets so intense
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From my experience
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It just doesn't seem to make sense
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Still...you turn me on
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Still....You Turn Me On
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Emerson, Lake & Palmer |