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Down down let your crazy out
Boys go crazy over you
Grip like a new york window cleaner
Just staring at you
Youth don’t leave me, hair stay on me
God I love those hips
Oh memory don’t forsake me
Not like this
All those pretty things, don’t sweat the pretty things
So collectable, why not collect them all
Obviously cunningly, womanly
All those pretty things, god bless the pretty things
They’re still out there somewhere
Making men feel this way
At fallen broadway station
I see them every day, all day
