| Well it’s so easy to be witty in retrospect
|
| When you’re out of door you pause a moment to reflect
|
| On all the crushing one-liners that you should have said
|
| But you always were reduced to angry words instead
|
| Fighting talk on the stairs
|
| Is enough to show who never cared
|
| Fighting talk, who will be spared
|
| The abuse that’s always hurled as you curse and swear
|
| But it’s so cruel how the moment can let you down
|
| And how eloquence deserts
|
| When you find yourself on sensitive ground
|
| You slam the door and turn the catch
|
| You turned your home into a prison
|
| Conversation into a slanging match
|
| Fighting talk on the stairs
|
| Is enough to show who never cared
|
| Fighting talk, who will be spared
|
| The abuse that’s always hurled as you curse and swear
|
| But oh my love I’m sick and tired
|
| Of all the cruelty love’s acquired
|
| We never more need come to harm
|
| If you lay your head here on my faithless arm |