| Like the flutter of your fingertips,
|
| Like the flickering of lights,
|
| They’ve got their bright ideas but we’ve got bigger fish to fry.
|
| Found you out there on your doorstep,
|
| Undressed to the nines.
|
| From your Sunday best, black and blue velvet dress.
|
| Your head’s a mess and so is mine.
|
| Oh Dorothy, I’m coming home,
|
| I hope you’re waiting there.
|
| I know times have been tough on you,
|
| It’s all downhill from here.
|
| Oh Dorothy, inside that dreadful place deep in your heart,
|
| It’s beckoning, I’m racing to your doorway Dorothy.
|
| Dorothy.
|
| Like the scratching sounds of insects,
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| Beneath the blades and soil.
|
| We’ll begin the plot to get away,
|
| To ends as black as oil.
|
| Now it’s pounding in the ear,
|
| Left in left field for you to find.
|
| Outside of your perifirals vision of this never ending night.
|
| Oh Dorothy, I’m coming home,
|
| I hope you’re waiting there.
|
| I know times have been tough on you,
|
| It’s all downhill from here.
|
| Oh Dorothy, inside that dreadful place deep in your heart,
|
| It’s beckoning, I’m racing to your doorway Dorothy.
|
| Dorothy.
|
| It’s a strange world isn’t it?
|
| Such strange times to be living in.
|
| I had a change of heart tonight,
|
| When I watched her walk into the light.
|
| It’s a strange world isn’t it?
|
| Such strange times to be living in.
|
| I had a change of heart tonight,
|
| When I watched her walk into the light.
|
| I watched her walk into the light.
|
| Oh Dorothy, I’m coming home,
|
| I hope you’re waiting there.
|
| I know times have been tough on you,
|
| It’s all downhill from here.
|
| Oh Dorothy, inside that dreadful place deep in your heart,
|
| It’s beckoning, I’m racing to your doorway Dorothy.
|
| Dorothy. |