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The apple fell small distance from |
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The tree that it called "mum" |
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And in those shadows it became |
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What apples do become |
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A Granny Smith from Granny Smith |
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So each stems from its kind |
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And that is why I should have known |
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How could I be so blind? |
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Your mother, though a charm at times |
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Fell short of character |
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Your mother went from man to man |
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And you were prone to flirt |
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Now looking back it seems unfair |
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To have expected more |
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From someone who my wiser friends |
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Identified a whore |
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And yes, that word is strong but true |
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And so is my resolve |
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To be the man that I should be |
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And leave you with the dogs |
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(And you're leading me on |
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Your eyes give it away |
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Don't hold out on me |
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What your lips won't say) |
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We've been through this before |
