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I have a letter from her |
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When she worked for the "Woman's Realm" |
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And all the things she promised me |
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She promised herself as well |
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She said, |
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"I want my freedom." |
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And ran off along the beach |
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It's hard to love a girl so near |
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Yet so far out of reach |
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Yet so far out of reach |
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She came back when the tide came in |
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And introduced her friend to me |
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She said, |
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"Don't ring while he's here." |
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And gave me back my poetry |
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She expected me to understand |
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As she's always done this before |
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And now she asks me |
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"Why don't you send me poems anymore?" |
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Send me poems anymore |
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And she steals more than she buys |
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You can see it in her eyes |
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And she'll come back as soon as she's ready |
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She's a bad penny |
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Then she comes back and asks me |
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To sing all her favourite songs |
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As if she's never been away |
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As if she's done nothing wrong |
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But I've come to the conclusion |
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That she doesn't realize a thing |
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And she probably still thinks I love her |
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And she doesn't know that it's a sin |
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She doesn't know that it's a sin |
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And she steals more than she buys |
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You can see it in her eyes |
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And she'll come back as soon as she's ready |
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She's a bad penny |
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She'll come back as soon as she's ready |
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She's a bad penny |
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She'll come back as soon as she's ready |
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She's a bad penny |
