| There's plenty of girls in the sea | And plenty of seeds in a lemon | The trick is to try to stay free | When it's never that great to begin with | The surgeon performs precise little cuts | But he's never perfect, he's thinking too much | And it's really no comfort to me | There's plenty of girls in the sea | There's plenty of girls in the sea | And plenty of those are not women | As soon as you get yourself free | Then somebody stops you from swimming | The lifeguard admits, his whistle in hand | That it isn't the muscle, and it isn't the tan | No it's whatever you want it to be | There's plenty of girls in the sea | | | | | Ah the passionate painter will say with a brush | It's best to accept it and not make a fuss | Just cause the grass isn't green, yeah | There's plenty of girls in the sea | There's plenty of girls in the sea | And plenty of clowns in the village | The trick is to try to be free | And tend to the void, don't just fill it | The bartender concedes, from inside his vest | That none of the best ones were ever the best | So keep it short simple and sweet Cuz there's plenty of girls in the | sea (plenty of girls) in the | sea, yeah there's plenty of girls in the | sea, (plenty of girls) in the | sea, oh there's plenty of girls in the | sea, (plenty of girls) in the | sea, yeah there's plenty of girls in the | sea, (plenty of girls) | Whenever you want there to be.