I thought we`d escape I packed a fishing-line and counted on it I thought we`d escape I packed a fishing-line and counted on it
But dreaming is for moonrise And moonlight ails these tired eyes
I treat him like a lady I treat him as I would he unto me Give Rose rose-seller a run for her money With silicone and poetry But it`s the end of me
I thought it could change I`d wake up one morning and find nothing to rearrange I couldn`t get there Behind his wall of Sunday papers I thought it could change I`d wake up one morning and find nothing to rearrange
But dreaming is for moonrise And moonlight ails these tired eyes
I treat him like a lady I treat him as I would he unto me Give Rose rose-seller a run for her money With silicone and poetry And it`s the end of me
And here I am Here I am Here I stand Here in my kitchen where I`m familiar with every brand
Here I am A front line of labels where I witness custard`s last stand
Here I am
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