Every time that I see her,
|
A lightning bolt fills the room,
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The underbelly of Paris,
|
She sings her favourite tune.
|
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She¡¯ll drink you under the table,
|
She show you a trick or two,
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But every time that I left her,
|
I miss the things she would do.
|
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She was the one, for me,
|
She opened my eyes, to see,
|
She was the one, for me,
|
Well alright.
|
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It was cold September,
|
Before the Indian Summer,
|
That¡¯s the thing I remember,
|
When she gave me a number.
|
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Went from station to station,
|
On a train ¡®cross the nation,
|
And the rain of November,
|
That¡¯s the time that we ended.
|
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She was the one, for me,
|
Oh alright.
|
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Vodka with coca-cola,
|
Cocaine tucked in her shoes,
|
Cigarettes over coffee,
|
Her halo slipped to a noose.
|
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Take the slow boat to China,
|
You fly it right ¡¯round the moon,
|
She could take it or leave it,
|
I knew it had to end soon.
|
|
She was the one, for me,
|
She opened my eyes, to see,
|
She was the one, for me,
|
Well alright.
|
|
It was a cold September,
|
Before the Indian Summer,
|
That¡¯s the thing I remember,
|
When she gave me her number.
|
|
Went from station to station,
|
On a train ¡®cross the nation,
|
And the rain of November,
|
That¡¯s the time that we ended.
|
|
She was the one, for me,
|
Oh alright, alright, alright, alright, yeah.
|
|
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Indian Summer
|
Stereophonics |