When the horses come to drag me away
|
I won't fuss and fight I won't plead or beg
|
and wherever they dump me
|
I'll lay my head
|
|
I'll sleep it off, I'll sleep alone
|
Until the longing burrows a hole
|
Straight through my sternum
|
To make its home
|
|
I have this way of carrying on
|
These fruitless passions fallen from the vine
|
And the sweetest nectar
|
Turns to bitter wine
|
|
But still we drink we drip the bottle dry
|
We smash it apart and lick the sides
|
Recycled lovers
|
Expiring the night
|
|
So when the horses come I won't scream or cry
|
I've been dying for them to take my life
|
And I'll sing of a new birth
|
A past unscratched
|
|
So don't be sad, we should both rejoice
|
To the sound of those hooves
|
Down that dark highway in opposite directions
|
Wherever they dump us we'll stay
|
Recycled lovers gets so carried away
|
Gets so carried away, so carried away
|
|
-----------------
|
Three Coins In The Fountain
|
Connie Francis |