Intro :
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G ettin g hung up all day on smiles
Walking down Porto bello Roa d for miles
Greet ing strangers in Indian boots
Y ello w ties and old brown suits
G rowing old is my only dan - ger
C uckoo cl ocks and pla stic so cks
Lampshade s of old ant ique leather
Nothing looks we ird not ev en a be ard
O r the boots made out of feathers
I keep wa lking miles
'til I f eel a broom bene ath my feet
O r the ha wking eyes
Of an old stuffed bull acr oss the street
Nothing's the same if you see it again
It'l l be br oken dow n to litter
Oh and the cl othes ev eryone k nows
T hat that dress will ne ver fit her
Getti ng hung u p all day on smiles
Walkin g down Port obello Ro ad for miles
Gree ting strangers in Indian boots
Yell ow ties and old brown suits
Growing old is my only dan - ger
Cuckoo c locks and pl astic s ocks
Lampshad es o f old an tique leather
Nothing looks w eird not e ven a b eard
Or the boots made out of feathers
I keep w alking miles
'til I feel a broom ben eath my feet
Or the h awking eyes
Of an ol d stuffed bull ac ross the street
Nothing' s the same i f you se e it again
It' ll be b roken do wn to litter
Oh and the c lothes e veryone knows
That that dress will n ever fit her
Getti ng hung u p all day on smiles
Walkin g down Port obello Ro ad for miles
Gree ting strangers in Indian boots
Yell ow ties and old brown suits
G rowin g old is m y onl y dan - ger
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