tea in my fave china cup, writing aimlessly on a blank piece of paper, Peter Sarstedt, writing in my blog, Will Parry, Lyra Silvertongue, hot baths, Dove body wash, broken pieces of afghan that fell in my tea that I find once I get to the bottom and stuff.
They say that when you get married, it'll be to a millionaire. But they don't realise where you came from, and I wonder if they really care or give a damn.
So, look into my face, Marie Claire, and remember just who you are.
Then go and forget me forever, but I know you'll still bear the scars deep inside, yes you do.
I know where you go my lovely, when you're alone in your bed,
I know the thoughts that surround you,
'cause I can look inside your head.
No comments:
Post a Comment