The act of love . . . is a confession. Selfishness screams aloud, vanity shows off, or else true generosity reveals itself.

Albert Camus

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Choo Choo
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My baby wants to drive the train
But don't you let her, don't you let her touch the tracks
I said my baby wants to drive the train
Well all aboard yeah, and don't forget to mind the gap
Don't you let her, don't you know
She's sick and tired of
Being in the background, the passenger
Let her drive the train, oh!
 
Choo Choo!
Why don't you let her drive the train?
Choo Choo!
Why don't you let her drive the train, yeah
 
She's setting off from platform four
Make your way down, we'll shut the door bout quarter to five
I said she's setting off from platform four
And they've decided that they're gonna let her drive
 
Don't you let her, don't you know
She's sick and tired of
Being in the background, the passenger
Let her drive the train, oh!
 
Choo Choo!
Why don't you let her drive the train, oh...
Choo Choo!
Why don't you let her drive my train, yeah
 
Choo Choo!
Choo Choo!
Choo Choo!
Choo Choo!