| I meant every word I said
|
| But only said half the words I meant
|
| There’s a load more where they came from
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| I suppose will get left unsent
|
| Like conversation started
|
| But don’t know which way it went
|
| Lips don’t miss the wish for a kiss
|
| And time doesn’t care how its spent
|
| And the only way a white lie shows
|
| Is the length of the gap between truths
|
| Imprison any feeling usually displayed
|
| And they wave white sheets from roofs
|
| Pushchair to pensioner no-one said it right
|
| So it was simplifed to one great fib
|
| Anyone else who couldn’t put it into words
|
| Just got their lips round good sex or a cig
|
| So if you finally spit it all out
|
| Make sure you’re wearing a bib
|
| And I suspect those described as driven
|
| Are usually driven by their mum or their dad
|
| And motivation something you work on
|
| If you can’t spell properly or add
|
| And if self-belief is something you started
|
| Its probably in a book I once had
|
| Self-belief the first target of thief
|
| The last thing on the mind of the mad
|
| And when it comes to your final speech
|
| And as usual the cats got your tongue
|
| Be glad we’re living in a world struck dumb
|
| Where the fat lady hasn’t yet sung
|
| Pushchair to pensioner no-one said it right
|
| So it was simplified to one great fib
|
| Anyone else who couldn’t put it into words
|
| Just got their lips round good sex or a cig
|
| So if you finally spit it all out
|
| Make sure you’re wearing a bib
|
| From where I’m sat, the lady’s not fat
|
| She’s skinny with just the one lung
|
| And the send-off planned the thirty-piece band
|
| Have been sacked and probably hung
|
| And anyone here who’s a 'not sure'
|
| Got here but how they forgot
|
| And anyone dared ask a 'what for?'
|
| Will get what for on the spot
|
| So if you finally spit it all out
|
| Make sure you’re out of your cot |