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At words poetic, I'm so pathetic |
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That I always have found it best |
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Instead of getting them off my chest |
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To let 'em rest unexpressed |
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I hate parading my serenading |
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As I probably miss the bar |
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But if this ditty is not so pretty |
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At least it'll tell you how great you are |
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You're the top, you're the Coliseum |
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You're the top, you're the Louver Museum |
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You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss |
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You're a Bendel bonnet, a Shakespeare's sonnet |
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You're Mickey Mouse |
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You're the Nile, you're the Tower of Pisa |
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You're the smile on the Mona Lisa |
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I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop |
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But if baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top |
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You're the top, you're Mahatma Gandhi |
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You're the top, you're Napoleon Brandy |
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You're the purple light of a summer night in Spain |
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You're the National Gallery, you're Garbo's salary |
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You're cellophane |
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You're sublime, you're the turkey dinner |
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You're the time of the Derby winner |
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I'm a toy balloon that's fated soon to pop |
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But if baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top |
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You're the top, you're an arrow collar |
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You're the top, you're a Coolidge dollar |
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You're the nimble tread of the feet of Fred Astaire |
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You're an O'Neill drama, you're Whistler's mama |
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You're Camembert |
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You're [Incomprehensible], you're Inferno's Dante |
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You're the nose on the great Durante |
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I'm just in the way as the French would say, "De trop" |
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But if baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top |
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You're the top, you're the Waldorf salad |
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You're the top, you're a Berlin ballad |
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You're the basic grand of a lady and the gents |
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You're an old Dutch master, you're Mrs. Astor |
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You're Pepsodent |
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You're romance, you're the steps of Russia |
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You're the pants on a Roxy usher |
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I'm a lazy lout with just about to stop |
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But if baby, I'm the bottom, you're the top |