|
I'm feeling flirty |
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Must be you heard me |
|
My knee is hurty |
|
I'm nearing thirty |
|
I'm taken to task evade |
|
Distractions fill up my nights |
|
"Look at the Cakes I made" |
|
I sing through a pair of stretched tights |
|
Continuing down the page |
|
The queen of Haverstock Hill |
|
Onto a marble stage |
|
Arrives and tells us about the |
|
Cassettes and catgut |
|
A squealing sackbut |
|
I toast a pine nut |
|
And serve it in my hut |
|
Downstairs they're playing trance again |
|
That awful bendy guitar |
|
Up through the floor again |
|
It's 9 AM 'til I cry |
|
And Time And A Word, my friend |
|
Inspires me more than guitars |
|
Playing in four that end |
|
Exactly how they began |
|
Six months without an argument |
|
A girl with tresses like yours |
|
Is what I always meant |
|
I should have done this before |
|
The second or third attempt |
|
At making somebody mine |
|
Seems to have worked for now |
|
I think I'm going to be fine |
