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Lyrics

Blue jean baby,
L.A. lady,
seamstress for the band.
Pretty eyes,
pirate smile,
you'll marry a music man.
Ballerina,
you must have seen her,
dancin' in the sand.
Now she's in me,
always with me,
tiny dancer in my hand.
Jesus freaks,
out in the streets,
handing tickets out for God.
Turning back,
she just laughs,
"The Boulevard is not that bad."
Piano man,
he makes a stand
in the auditorium.
Looking on,
she sings the songs.
The words she knows, the tune she hums.
Oh, how it feels so real,
lyin' here, with no one near.
Only you,
and you can hear me,
when I say softly,
slowly...
Hold me closer, tiny dancer.
Count the headlights on the highway.
Lay me down in sheets of linen.
You had a busy day today.
Hold me closer, tiny dancer.
Count the headlights on the highway.
Lay me down in sheets of linen.
You had a busy day today.
Blue jean baby,
L.A. lady,
seamstress for the band.
Pretty eyes,
pirate smile,
you'll marry a music man.
Ballerina,
you must have seen her
dancin' in the sand.
Now she's in me,
always with me,
tiny dancer in my hand.
Oh, how it feels so real,
lyin' here with no one near.
Only you,
and you can hear me,
when I say softly,
slowly...
Hold me closer, tiny dancer.
Count the headlights on the highway.
Lay me down in sheets of linen.
You had a busy day today.
Hold me closer, tiny dancer.
Count the headlights on the highway.
Lay me down in sheets of linen.
You had a busy day today...

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