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He's gone, / he's gone. /
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She wears sad jeans / torn at the waistband. / Her pretty face / is stained with tears. / And in her right hand / she clasps a letter; / I know this means / that he has gone. /
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And in this town / of mis-guided tourists, / she never thought / she'd fall in love. / It was a few days / after her birthday, / The thrill hostess / gave her first kiss. /
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He said her skin / smelled just like petals, / said stupid things / he knew she'd like. / She said her life / was like a motorway: / Dull, grey, and long / 'til he came along. /
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He's gone, / he's gone. /
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I said "How could / he ever leave you? / You two were good, / you were so right." / She said "I wish / that he just left me; / He'd be alive, / alive tonight." /
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He's gone, / he's gone. / He's gone, / he's gone. / He's gone, / he's gone
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-----------------
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Like A Mototrway
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| Saint Etienne |
