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Emma tried to run away, |
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I followed her across the city, |
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She went out to the Easterhouse, |
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Because she liked the sound of it. |
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She didn't have a single penny, |
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She stuck a finger in the air, |
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She tried to flag down an aeroplane, |
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I suppose she needs a holiday. |
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I put my arm around her waist, |
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She put me on the ground with Judo, |
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She didn't recognise my face, |
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She wasn't even looking. |
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Laura's feeling just ideal, |
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Her horoscope was nearly perfect, |
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She's thinking of something to do, |
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Because she is The Birthday Girl. |
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She walked out to the edge of town, |
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She saw me lying in the park, |
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She took Emma by the hand, |
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They've got a lot in common. |
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I'll leave them to do what they want, |
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I'll leave them to do what they need to, |
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I'll go and play with words and pictures, |
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I'll admit I'm feeling strange. |
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[instrumental] |
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I'm not as sad as Doestoevsky, |
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I'm not as clever as Mark Twain, |
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I'll only buy a book for the way it looks, |
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And then I stick it on the shelf again. |
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Now I could tell you what I'm thinking, |
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But it never seems to do you good, |
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It's beyond me what a girl can see, |
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I'm only lucid when I'm writing songs. |
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This is just a modern rock song, |
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This is just a sorry lament, |
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We're four boys in corduroys, |
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We're not terrific but we're competent. |
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Stevie's full of good intentions, |
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Richards into rock 'n' roll, |
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Stuart's staying in and he thinks it's a sin, |
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That he has to leave the house at all. |
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[instrumental] |
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This is just a modern rock song, |
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This is just a tender affair, |
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I count 'three, four' and then we start to slow, |
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Because a song has got to stop somewhere. |