|
Bad lovers face to face in the morning |
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Shy apologies and polite regrets |
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Slow dances that left no warning of |
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Outraged glances and indiscreet yawning |
|
Good manners and bad breath get you nowhere |
|
Even presidents have newspaper lovers |
|
Ministers go crawling under covers |
|
She's no angel |
|
And he's no saint |
|
They're all covered up with white washed grease paint |
|
And you say |
|
The teacher never told you anything but white lies |
|
But you never see the lies and you believe |
|
Oh you know you have been captured |
|
You feel so civilized |
|
And you look so pretty in your new lace sleeves |
|
The salty lips of the socialite sisters |
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With their continental fingers that have |
|
Never seen working blisters |
|
Oh, I know they've got their problems |
|
I wish I was one of them |
|
They say daddy's coming home soon |
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With his sergeant stripes and his Empire mug and spoon |
|
No more fast buck |
|
And when are they gonna learn their lesson |
|
When are they gonna stop all of these victory processions |
|
And you say |
|
The teacher never told you anything but white lies |
|
But you never see the lies and you believe |
|
Oh, you know you have been captured |
|
You feel so civilized |
|
And you look so pretty in your new lace sleeves |
|
Look so pretty in your new lace sleeves |
|
Look so pretty in your new lace sleeves |
|
You look so pretty in your new lace sleeves |
|
You look so pretty in your new lace sleeves |
