Lyrics Get on with It - Letters To Cleo

Get on with It

The Sunday Paper is a mess and I’m not gonna pick it up you are if I could
Just get on with it.
It don’t matter my hair’s a mess cause you’re not gonna
Fix it up for me, I am if I could just get on with it, I would take a breath
Outside myself a stranger place I couldn’t find and no one knows who I am
And you can’t say my name.
Can’t think of anything else worse 'cause if I
Didn’t fuck it up you would why can’t you just do something right.
Just
Once change my mind cause if you can I’d be the one you know I am but
You’re so blind, you always were I didn’t catch your name.
I would take a
Breath outside myself a stranger place I couldn’t find and no one knows
Who I am and you can’t say my name