She said, Don't...don't let it go to your head.
Boys like you are a dime a dozen,
Boys like you are a dime a dozen.
She said...You're a touch over-rated.
You're a lush, and I hate it.
But these grass stains on my knees,
They won't mean a thing
And all I need to know is that I'm something you'll be missin'
Well, maybe I should hate you for this
Never really
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