But when the morning comes Don't say you love me Don't say you need me I really don't think that's fair Boy I'm not so dumb But when you leave me I'll be wishing I, wishing I, wishing I was there
"In a season of SPLIT PERSONALITIES - moody intellectual by day, WILD CHILD by night - evening calls for SHOWGIRL-esque EXCESS: strobe light-loving sequins, MIRRORED CLUTCHES, patent booties and LACQUER BANGLES. After all, on the dance floor, EVERYONE'S A STAR."
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