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She ain't real friendly for no good reason |
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Claims her life's been filled with treason |
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Says she's cursed by a toothless gypsy |
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Wonderin' why her life's so greasy |
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With doulbe blades she dulls her senses |
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Spiteful girl by all consensus |
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All her life it's been the same |
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Hell she don't even like her name |
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She longs to be the ingenue |
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To leading men tall dark and handsome |
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But now the play has passed her by... oh my |
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There's no exit |
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Oh no there's no way out at all |
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There's no exit |
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Jumped a train in Italy |
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On her way to gay Paris |
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Down in the Loire Valley |
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She got sho drunk she couldn't see |
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Stumblin' through a metro station |
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In a mood for conversation |
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Fortune teller read her palm |
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Told her that her time was gone |
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She longs to be the ingenue |
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To leading men tall dark and handsome |
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But now the play has passed her by... oh my |
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There's no exit |
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Oh no there's no way out at all |
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There's no exit |
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She used to model as a child |
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With Bardot's looks and Gigi's laughter |
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Enfant terrible creation |
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Of a sockless adman's mind |
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Played her first recital at the tender age of nine |
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Strains of Clare de Lune |
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Mater sipping wine |
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Pater in the garden gazing |
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At those ponies grazing |
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The spoils of a lonely child |
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She longs to be the ingenue |
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To leading men tall dark and handsome |
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Once just a jet-trash kid |
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Down at Les Halles |
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Her frequent trips to Nice |
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In Monaco she was always welcome |
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She was embraced by all society |
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Along the way she lost her charms |
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Now the play has passed her by |