|
It's not the clothes that she borrows
|
just call me out - you know I'll follow
|
Back thru the backdoor into June
|
Luck will sleep the October June
|
Sometimes in deep thought I'm 31
|
she's wanting kids
|
sounds like fun,
|
I'll teach them to sing along
|
sure beats the end of a smoking gun
|
And I know that god exists
|
because I feel him sometimes
|
when she takes up the sheets
|
or my telephone lines, but
|
when I'm home she says:
|
"Baby you're a lie..."
|
"You're not really here."
|
"You've gone away..."
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Gone Away
|
| 7 Mary 3 |
