| Looks like you’ve been eating magpie eggs again
|
| 'Cause your face is a stamp
|
| That’s rejecting the little red marks to comprehend
|
| What’s not that good, and what’s bad
|
| So, first I’ll have a day off to recover
|
| And then another week to make my plans
|
| And if you’re not back when that first day’s over
|
| Looks as if your eggs are all rotten
|
| And now is the time to rely
|
| On the spellbinder’s hat and his magic
|
| Blue tie as our oceans run dry
|
| The first day’s when you’ll get your toothbrush back
|
| And the second one’s made to compare
|
| As you put the lotion in your backpack
|
| I am already there
|
| There’s no longer no one asking your name
|
| At the beach house grill on the fourth floor
|
| And when you go out for a swim
|
| You’ll probably leave that face indoors
|
| Looks like the eggs are ready hatched now
|
| And like you chose wrong when you went for tails
|
| But how am I to forget you’re there
|
| With your skin under my nails
|
| And it’s always the same
|
| And it’s always the same
|
| It is always the same |