caroline laughs and it's raining all day
|
she loves to be one of the girls
|
she lives in the place in the side of our lives
|
where nothing is ever put straight
|
she turns her self round and
|
she smiles and she says
|
this is it
|
that's the end of the joke
|
and loses herself in her dreaming and sleep
|
and her lovers walk through in their coats
|
pretty in pink isn't she
|
pretty in pink
|
isn't she
|
all of her lovers all talk of her notes
|
and the flowers that they never sent
|
and wasn't she easy
|
and isn't she pretty in pink
|
the one who insists he was first in the line
|
is the last to remember her name
|
he's walking around in this dress that she wore
|
she is gone but the joke's the same
|
pretty in pink isn't she
|
pretty in pink
|
isn't she
|
caroline talks to you softly sometimes
|
she says "i love you" and "too much"
|
she doesn't have anything you want to steal
|
well nothing you can touch
|
she waves
|
she buttons your shirt
|
the traffic is waiting outside
|
she hands you this coat
|
she gives you her clothes
|
these cars collide
|
pretty in pink isn't she
|
pretty in pink
|
isn't she
|
|
*caroline's on the table screaming
|
confidence is in the sea
|
and all their favorite rags are worn
|
and other kinds of uniform
|
they kid you you're really free
|
and you know what you want to be
|
case of individuality
|
until tomorrow
|
and everything you are you'll see
|
in pure shiny buttons
|
they put you in this gear
|
and driveways broken
|
doorbell sings in chimes
|
it plays anything goes
|
bells toll in rhyme
|
|
-----------------
|
Pretty in Pink
|
| The Dresden Dolls |
