She's a Thief Lyrics
| Song | She's a Thief |
| Artist | Owen |
| Album | I do perceive. |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| You put on your raincoat ‘ | |
| Cause it looks like it just might today | |
| And you grab your keys | |
| And you’re out the door before you know where you’re going | |
| And if blame, as they say, is for | |
| God and little kids | |
| Then you’re deserving of praise or a slap on the wrist ‘ | |
| Cause you can’t help but blame yourself | |
| For your long face | |
| Not a day passes that you don’t fold your hands | |
| And ask St. | |
| Francis to find the lust for life | |
| That you lost when she left with your tongue | |
| And your last breath | |
| Well, she’s a thief with an eye for nice things | |
| Not a day passes that you don’t close your eyes | |
| And ask St. | |
| Francis to find the love of your life | |
| That you lost when she left | |
| You dumb fuck, your life’s a mess | |
| Without her to tell you what to say | |
| Or when to breathe | |
| Or what you’ll need where you’re going |
| You put on your raincoat ' | |
| Cause it looks like it just might today | |
| And you grab your keys | |
| And you' re out the door before you know where you' re going | |
| And if blame, as they say, is for | |
| God and little kids | |
| Then you' re deserving of praise or a slap on the wrist ' | |
| Cause you can' t help but blame yourself | |
| For your long face | |
| Not a day passes that you don' t fold your hands | |
| And ask St. | |
| Francis to find the lust for life | |
| That you lost when she left with your tongue | |
| And your last breath | |
| Well, she' s a thief with an eye for nice things | |
| Not a day passes that you don' t close your eyes | |
| And ask St. | |
| Francis to find the love of your life | |
| That you lost when she left | |
| You dumb fuck, your life' s a mess | |
| Without her to tell you what to say | |
| Or when to breathe | |
| Or what you' ll need where you' re going |
| You put on your raincoat ' | |
| Cause it looks like it just might today | |
| And you grab your keys | |
| And you' re out the door before you know where you' re going | |
| And if blame, as they say, is for | |
| God and little kids | |
| Then you' re deserving of praise or a slap on the wrist ' | |
| Cause you can' t help but blame yourself | |
| For your long face | |
| Not a day passes that you don' t fold your hands | |
| And ask St. | |
| Francis to find the lust for life | |
| That you lost when she left with your tongue | |
| And your last breath | |
| Well, she' s a thief with an eye for nice things | |
| Not a day passes that you don' t close your eyes | |
| And ask St. | |
| Francis to find the love of your life | |
| That you lost when she left | |
| You dumb fuck, your life' s a mess | |
| Without her to tell you what to say | |
| Or when to breathe | |
| Or what you' ll need where you' re going |
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