| Truly, with his thorn in your side
|
| And you don’t know why
|
| Julie dips her toe in the tide
|
| And you don’t know why
|
| No, she don’t know why she got
|
| All dolled up for a suicide
|
| And when the stage lights dimmed on the fading scrim
|
| It was morning before the cheering died
|
| Is it too late to tell you that I don’t mind?
|
| King George in imperial robe
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| And a lazy eye
|
| Knelt down as the semaphore broke
|
| On his tawdry bride
|
| But we don’t know why he got
|
| All stressed out on the motherland
|
| With his T.V. sets and his fighter jets
|
| And the royal ubiquitous handycam
|
| Is it too late to tell you that I don’t mind?
|
| Here’s you with your mom on your back
|
| Going into the woods
|
| She’s so proud that you’re staying on track
|
| Like a good son should
|
| But you don’t know why you got
|
| All choked up when you said goodbye
|
| And you can hear her still when the nights are still
|
| All crying out for calamine
|
| Is it too late to tell you that I don’t mind?
|
| Is it too late to tell you that I don’t mind? |