| Shoes at the door and a colour coded kitchen
|
| Evidently very house proud
|
| With a hiccup and a wink
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| And your dish in the sink
|
| You’ve declared that dinner is over
|
| Now we’re left with the decision
|
| Is it us we both envision
|
| We’ll decide when we get upstairs
|
| As mush as it’s a sure thing
|
| I still feel there’s a chance
|
| We could end up just doing dares
|
| And so,
|
| Armed with a conviction
|
| That betrays me in a second
|
| I lie with an excuse
|
| I can’t believe I’ll get away with
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| That I don’t like driving in the dark
|
| It’s hard to tell between the sky and the bark
|
| But the offer of a taxi
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| Leaves it all in burning tatters
|
| My belt was on the floor already
|
| But again that hardly matters
|
| As nice as it was of her to offer to pay
|
| The real payoff would only come if I stay
|
| Sad songs and waltzes and yesterday’s clothes
|
| Are useless to me now
|
| Sad sonf and waltzes and yesterday’s clothes
|
| Are useless to me now
|
| Hope flutters on underneath closed doors
|
| This spiralling romance a real tour de force
|
| I screamed weak whimper of stuttering protests
|
| Callously turned away, sudden lack of interest
|
| Swinging the light I’m begging for confession
|
| A tight lipped jab about a lady’s own discretion
|
| Sad songs and waltzes and yesterday’s clothes
|
| Are useless to me now
|
| Sad sonf and waltzes and yesterday’s clothes
|
| Are useless to me now
|
| After what seemed like a cliché
|
| I feel robbed of a morning
|
| No akward searching for toothpaste
|
| Or a housemate scorning
|
| Why do women act like they’re doing men a favour
|
| It’s not like they can live without relationships either
|
| Sad songs and waltzes and yesterday’s clothes
|
| Are useless to me now
|
| Sad sonf and waltzes and yesterday’s clothes
|
| Are useless to me now
|
| I live in a huff of supremme court disgrace
|
| Sitting on the front step doing up my face,
|
| In the crush to get in I tore them off rather quickly
|
| Ridding them completely of their plastic nobility.
|
| In a moment I’ll not call madness just yet
|
| I engraved on her letterbox cruel brunette |