| You said you hate the sound
|
| Of the busses on the ground
|
| You said you hate the way they scrape their brakes all over town
|
| Said pretend it’s whales
|
| Keeping their voices down
|
| Such were the grounds for divorce i know
|
| On the radio
|
| And the bouncing bodies' drone
|
| Found eighteen reasons I can’t pick up on the phone
|
| Said look at the clouds
|
| It’s a show all on its own
|
| Such were the grounds for divorce i know
|
| But the dialing is dead
|
| We hit it on the head
|
| It looked like a wedding cake
|
| But the dialing is dead
|
| We hit it on the head
|
| It looked like a newlywed
|
| But I look at the lovers
|
| In the telephone stands
|
| And the way they move and the way move their hands
|
| And I look at their babies
|
| And their tiny little hands
|
| And the way they get loved and the way they get loved
|
| Oh look at the lovers
|
| In the telephone stands
|
| And the way they move and the way move and the way move their hands
|
| Said you hate the sound
|
| Of the busses on the ground
|
| Said you hate the way they scrape their brakes all over town
|
| Said pretend it’s wales
|
| And keeping their voices down
|
| Such were the grounds for divorce i know
|
| Looked like a newlywed
|
| On the radio
|
| And the bouncing bodies' drone
|
| Found eighteen reasons I can’t pick up on the phone
|
| Said look at the clouds
|
| It’s a show all on its own
|
| Such were the grounds such were the grounds for divorce i know |