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You've practiced and rehearsed |
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But in your heart you know |
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It's too late. |
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Experience should tell you |
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Never get your story too straight. |
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You'd better steel yourself |
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And prepare for |
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Some blues to descend' |
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Cause you've broken something this time |
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Stoplight roses can't mend. |
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You've dusted off your shame face |
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In the mirror behind the bathroom door. |
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That little-boy-lost look |
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That used to work so well |
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Doesn't anymore. |
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If you believe your same-old used-to-be |
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Will see you through |
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You'll last about as long as stoplight roses do. |
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Stoplight roses |
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In their sad array. |
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Love's promise in cellophane lace |
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Or dead giveaway? |
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You'll need time to devise |
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A stylish plan |
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And you'll do it driving over to |
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The stoplight roses man. |
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And if you believe your same-old used-to-be |
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Will see you through |
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You'll last about as long as stoplight roses do. |
