Careful in the kitchen
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Says the man in red
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He knows exactly where to hang his head
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Someones in the bedroom
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Playing with the lamp
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Love is like her hair beneath the curtain soiled and damp
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Isn't she so beautiful
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In her baby blues
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I'll be over when i know
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That she's all over you
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I can hear the ticking
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Of the cuckoo clock
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I can see you hiding in the shadow of her locks
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She don't really love you
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She don't understand
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What she's got between the precious creases of her hands
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Life becomes the poet
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Messing with her words
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In the margin soft and blurred
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Time is my complexion
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Love is my parade
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Funny how the fiddler knows exactly when to play
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-----------------
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Careful
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Wild Strawberries |