So many obvious questions have gone unasked
How can you
So we sit at this table with our hands in
Aim high, but shoot low
Our mission is to bring
Your shirts are pressed
Your words are planned
Your jeans
Your body aches from all the alcohol you drank
But
I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one
(do do do...)
Don't walk away from this
It's on your fingertips
Babe,
You wear too much make-up
It doesn't cover up a thing
Well
How did we get to this place?
In the beginning, things
Sitting in my carBut we don’t drive very farThe miles
[Originally by Bob Dylan]Go away from my window Leave at
I think i'm running out of sympathypromises you've madebut never
Give me your black lungs And your blue eyes And