| When we walked the streets together
|
| All the faces seemed to smile back
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| And now the pavements
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| Have nothing to offer
|
| And all the faces seem to need a slap
|
| There’s an unfamiliar grip
|
| On an unfamiliar handkerchief
|
| Attending to the tears on cheeks
|
| I wouldn’t notice
|
| With you no matter how vicious the grief
|
| Her expression was damp and crooked
|
| Grabs onto my throat and won’t let go Won’t let go Won’t let go Won’t let go Save me from
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| The secateurs
|
| I’ll pretend
|
| I didn’t hear
|
| Can’t you see
|
| I’m the ghost in the wrong coat
|
| Biting butter and crumbs
|
| There’s a handsome maverick
|
| You don’t talk about to keep me calm
|
| And I can’t help
|
| But try create diversion???
|
| Pulls you back onto his arm
|
| Please don’t tell me You don’t have to darling I can sense
|
| That he painted you a gushing sunset
|
| And slayed
|
| Their pink panthers in your defence
|
| He stands separate and ever deadly
|
| Clings onto my throat and won’t let go Won’t let go Won’t let go Won’t let go Save me from
|
| The secateurs
|
| I’ll pretend
|
| I didn’t hear
|
| Can’t you see
|
| I’m a ghost
|
| In the wrong coat
|
| Biting butter and crumbs |