| My father sits at night with no lights on His cigarette glows in the dark.
|
| The living room is still;
|
| I walk by, no remark.
|
| I tiptoe past the master bedroom where
|
| My mother reads her magazines.
|
| I hear her call sweet dreams,
|
| But I forgot how to dream.
|
| But you say it’s time we moved in together
|
| And raised a family of our own, you and me —
|
| Well, that’s the way I’ve always heard it should be:
|
| You want to marry me, we’ll marry.
|
| My friends from college they’re all married now;
|
| They have their houses and their lawns.
|
| They have their silent noons,
|
| Tearful nights, angry dawns.
|
| Their children hate them for the things they’re not;
|
| They hate themselves for what they are-
|
| And yet they drink, they laugh,
|
| Close the wound, hide the scar.
|
| But you say it’s time we moved in together
|
| And raised a family of our own, you and me —
|
| Well, that’s the way I’ve always heard it should be:
|
| You want to marry me, we’ll marry.
|
| You say we can keep our love alive
|
| Babe — all I know is what I see —
|
| The couples cling and claw
|
| And drown in love’s debris.
|
| You say we’ll soar like two birds through the clouds,
|
| But soon you’ll cage me on your shelf —
|
| I’ll never learn to be just me first
|
| By myself.
|
| Well O.K., it’s time we moved in together
|
| And raised a family of our own, you and me —
|
| Well, that’s the way I’ve always heard it should be,
|
| You want to marry me, we’ll marry,
|
| We’ll marry. |