| There’s a round-up at the love corral
|
| And the air is full of dust
|
| And I think it’s going pretty well
|
| But I’m trying to adjust
|
| As we walk along the boulevard
|
| With a hand in hand, in hand
|
| And who cares if people stare at us
|
| 'Cause they’ll never understand
|
| Sisters, where is the jealousy, is it there?
|
| Sisters, is this a felony anywhere?
|
| Who cares? |
| I see a double moon in the sky
|
| Sisters, an oversupply
|
| Do I have to be a diplomat
|
| When I hear you fuss and fight?
|
| Do I have to be an acrobat
|
| As I try to get it right?
|
| There’s a double moon up in the sky
|
| And it’s shining down on me
|
| And I know that I’m a lucky guy
|
| That’s my biography
|
| Sisters, where is the jealousy, is it there?
|
| Sisters, is this a felony anywhere?
|
| Who cares? |
| I see a double moon in the sky
|
| Sisters, an oversupply
|
| My arms are full, my lips are sore
|
| By morning we could face the light
|
| And I know if I was wrong for you
|
| I would feel a little down
|
| Well it wouldn’t be disastrous
|
| I would still have you around
|
| Sisters, where is the jealousy, is it there?
|
| Sisters, is this a felony anywhere?
|
| Who cares? |
| I see a double moon in the sky
|
| Sisters, an oversupply
|
| Sisters
|
| Sisters
|
| Sisters |