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Darling, I'm with |
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St. Bernards |
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And we're scouring the |
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Alps and the |
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AndesAnd if they die then it is on my head |
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They follow paw prints in the snow to my throne to my bed |
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You're pouting in your sleep, |
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I'm waking still yawning |
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We're proving to each other that romance is boring |
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Still there are things |
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I could do if |
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I was half prepared to |
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Prove to each other that romance is boring |
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Start as you mean to continue |
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Complacent and self-involved |
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You're trying not to be nervous |
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If you were trying at all |
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I will wake, |
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I will bake phallic cake |
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Take your diffidence, make it my clubhouse |
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But my strength's within lies, ventricle cauterized |
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It's the way of living that |
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I espouseYou're pouting in your sleep, |
|
I'm waking still yawning |
|
We're proving to each other that romance is boring |
|
Still there are things |
|
I could do if |
|
I was half prepared to |
|
Prove to each other that romance is boring |
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We are two ships that pass in the night |
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You and I, we are nothing alike |
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I am a pleasure cruise, you a direct to trawl |
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Return less empty, nothing at all |
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You're pouting in your sleep, |
|
I'm waking still yawning |
|
We're proving to each other that romance is boring |
|
Still there are things |
|
I could do if |
|
I was half prepared to |
|
Prove to each other that romance is boring |
