Bad lovers face to face in the morning
|
Shy apologies and polite regrets
|
Slow dances that left no warning of
|
Outraged glances and indiscreet yawning
|
Good manners and bad breath get you nowhere
|
Even presidents have newspaper lovers
|
Ministers go crawling under covers
|
She's no angel
|
He's no saint
|
They're all covered up with white washed grease paint
|
And you say...
|
|
[Chorus:]
|
The teacher never told you anything but white lies
|
But you never see the lies
|
And you believe
|
Oh you know you have been captured
|
You feel so civilized
|
And you look so pretty in your new lace sleeves
|
|
The salty lips of the socialite sisters
|
With their continental fingers that have
|
never seen working blisters
|
Oh I know they've got their problems
|
I wish I was one of them
|
They say daddy's coming home soon
|
With his sergeant stripes and his Empire mug and spoon
|
|
No more fast buck
|
And when are they gonna learn their lesson
|
When are they gonna stop all of these victory processions
|
And you say...
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
-----------------
|
New Lace Sleeves
|
| Elvis Costello |
