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Gretchen Peters - Camille |
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The moon had a fight with the parking lot light |
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And slunk off to hide in the clouds |
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Now it''s broken bottles, gravel and glass |
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Keepin'' you company now |
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In the heat of the moment he cried out your name |
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But the moment it didn''t last long |
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Ten minutes later he''s driving away |
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While you''re putting your pantyhose on |
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And you don''t want to cry, and you don''t want to think |
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And you tell yourself it ain''t no big deal |
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And you feel like a fool, and you feel like a drink |
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And you drink so you don''t have to feel |
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But you still do, don''t you Camille |
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All your affairs are like last night''s mascara |
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Darkening the lines round your eyes |
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Seems like these days you''re just pickin'' up strays |
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You laugh and say you''re no prize |
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And the sins of the fathers they''re not meant for daughters |
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But somehow you felt you''re to blame |
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And the ghost in your head and the men in your bed |
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They all look like they''re one and the same |
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And you don''t want to cry, and you don''t want to think |
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And you tell yourself it ain''t no big deal |
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And you feel like a fool, and you feel like a drink |
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And you drink so you don''t have to feel |
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But you still do, don''t you Camille |
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Yeah, you still do, don''t you Camille |
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