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There's a picture by his first wife on the wall |
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Stripped floor-boards in the kitchen and the hall |
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A stain from last week's party on the stairs |
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No one knows who made it or how it ever got there |
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They were dancing with children round their legs |
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Talking business, books and records, art and sex |
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All things being considered you'd call it a success |
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You wore your black dress oh-oh oh-oh... |
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He's an architect and such a lovely guy and he'll stay with you until the day you die |
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And he'll give you everything you could desire |
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Oh well almost everything everything that he can buy |
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So you sometimes go out in the afternoon |
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Spend an hour with your lover in his bedroom hear old women rolling trolleys down the road |
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Back to Lyndhurst Grove Lyndhurst Grove Oh. |
