|
Oh dear, take what you've been given |
|
And give back to me |
|
Oh night, don't waste your time with that' |
|
Cause it may never come |
|
But she goes down wrapped up in the armies |
|
Of a love she's found |
|
She won't hide, love is |
|
Sunday mornings |
|
When the paper writes |
|
Here and there, silently you're waiting |
|
For what never comes |
|
Oh dear, don't waste your time alone' |
|
Cause it may never come |
|
But she goes down wrapped up in the armies |
|
Of a love she's found |
|
She won't hide, love is |
|
Sunday mornings |
|
When the paper cries |
|
Oh dear, don't waste your time with that' |
|
Cause it may never come |
|
But she goes down wrapped up in the armies |
|
Of a love she's found |
|
She won't hide, love is |
|
Sunday mornings |
|
And the paper shines |
|
She goes down, she goes down |
|
She goes down, she goes down |