The Sunday Paper is a mess and I'm not gonna pick it up you are if I could
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just get on with it. It don't matter my hair's a mess cause you're not gonna
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fix it up for me, I am if I could just get on with it, I would take a breath
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outside myself a stranger place I couldn't find and no one knows who I am
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and you can't say my name. Can't think of anything else worse 'cause if I
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didn't fuck it up you would why can't you just do something right. Just
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once change my mind cause if you can I'd be the one you know I am but
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you're so blind, you always were I didn't catch your name. I would take a
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breath outside myself a stranger place I couldn't find and no one knows
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who I am and you can't say my name.
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Get On With It
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| Letters To Cleo |
