| You wake from comfort search
|
| To morning soiled bed
|
| Now, slumber sweetened tooth
|
| Bites down in cold, hard truth
|
| Oh, oh, no, Elizabeth. |
| Oh, oh, no
|
| Oh, oh, no, Elizabeth. |
| Oh, oh, no
|
| Through pre-pubescent tones
|
| The sticks will break your bones
|
| And as you’re walking home
|
| You cry, cry, cry alone
|
| Through pre-pubescent tones
|
| The sticks will break your bones
|
| And don’t look up to call
|
| For all they are is tall
|
| Don’t do that, Elizabeth. |
| Don’t do that
|
| Don’t do that, Elizabeth. |
| Don’t do that
|
| Though few days you’ve had
|
| Those days have all been sad
|
| When youth has found its past
|
| These days they all were cast
|
| Though few days you’ve had
|
| Those days have all been sad
|
| No matter what is said
|
| Life change or sudden death
|
| You’re unloved, Elizabeth. |
| You’re unloved
|
| You’re unloved, Elizabeth. |
| You’re unloved
|
| You’re unloved, Elizabeth. |
| You’re unloved
|
| You’re unloved, Elizabeth. |
| You’re unloved
|
| You’re unloved
|
| You’re unloved
|
| You’re unloved
|
| You’re unloved |