| I was tired of my lady
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| We'd been togehter too long
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| Like a worn-out recording
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| of a favorite song.
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| So while she lay there sleeping
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| I read the paper in bed
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| And in the personal columns
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| There was this letter I read:
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| "If you like Pina Coladas
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| And getting caught in the rain,
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| If you're not into yoga
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| If you have half a brain,
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| If you'd like making love at midnight
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| In the dunes of the Cape,
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| Then I'm the love you've looked for:
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| Write to me and escape."
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| I didn't think about my lady
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| I know I sound kind of mean
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| But me and my old lady
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| Have fallen into the same old dull routine.
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| So I wrote to the paper
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| Took out a personal ad
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| And though I'm nobody's poet
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| I thought it wasn't half-bad:
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| "Yes I like Pina Coladas
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| And getting caught in the rain,
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| I'm not much into health food,
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| I am into champagne.
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| I've got to meet you by tomorrow noon
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| And cut through all this red-tape
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| At a bar called O'Malley's
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| Where we'll plan out escape."
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| So I waited with high hopes
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| And she walked into the place
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| I knew her smile in an instant
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| I knew the curve of her face
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| It was my own lovely lady
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| And she said, "Oh, it's you"
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| Then we laughed for a moment
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| And I said, "I never knew."
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| That you like Pina Coladas
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| Getting caught in the rain
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| And the feel of the ocean
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| And the taste of champagne
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| If you'd like making love at midnight
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| In the dunes of the Cape
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| You're the lady I've looked for
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| Come with me and escape. |