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You’ve got sleep in your eyes
A feather on your shoulder, you look so sweet
You stretch your back
You rub your eyes
The Sunday paper’s got nothing on you
Your coffee cup
Is steaming ‘round your fingers as you close your eyes
Your hair is a mess
Like the world outside
The Sunday paper’s got nothing on you
Later we’ll go
For a drink or two
Somewhere downtown
Soon you will go
Like you always do
My fair weather friend
My fair weather friend
The reflection of the light
Against your skin looks so pure
You breathe so softly
Through your lips so tender
The Sunday paper’s got nothing on you
Your coffee cup
Is steaming ‘round your fingers as you open your eyes
You look at me
Just for a moment
The Sunday paper’s got nothing on you
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