| We are like kids in a play
|
| Set in the Victorian age
|
| We only know what to say
|
| Because we practiced at home
|
| Or we rehearsed on the bus
|
| Next to kids just like us
|
| Who couldn’t help but think we were weird
|
| And you will open your mouth
|
| And it will cue me
|
| To start to speak of the South
|
| Like I had been there
|
| And you will forgive yourself
|
| As you mouth my words
|
| I think it’s your turn to leave
|
| And throw a fit
|
| And I will mumble and grieve
|
| In an aside
|
| That brings the crowd to their feet
|
| And almost makes you cry
|
| Cry
|
| Cry
|
| Cry
|
| Cry
|
| Yeah
|
| What if no one comes?
|
| What if we get bored?
|
| Will you fit my clothes
|
| If we should switch roles?
|
| Here we go
|
| We are like kids in a play
|
| Set in the Victorian age
|
| We only know what to say
|
| Because we practiced at home
|
| Or we rehearsed on the bus
|
| Next to kids just like us
|
| Who couldn’t help but think
|
| They couldn’t help it
|
| They couldn’t help it
|
| They couldn’t help it
|
| They couldn’t help it |