Twisted elm all around a caravan Spring is slowly breaking winter's curse Swollen knuckles screaming with arthritis Snatching at a promissory purse
You could pry yourself from the vice grips Pull off your bloomers and swim You could take your advice from a vicar Or marry the man twice
Back straight, stroll into a parlour Shaking like a needle on a pine. Hide the dirt that's caked under your fingernails Place a bet, pass away the time
Saving all your silver for the Sabbath You could be an evangelical's wife Never trust a man with his back in the corner Keep your eyes wide for the rip in the tide No, no never trust a man with his back in the corner Keep your eyes on the rip in the tide
Smoke rising up from the glassworks Cutting through the blue hours of the morn All your insides fell all to pieces Tucked inside your skirts away from harm
Stash all your hope inside a bottle Now, throw it to the sea and watch it sink You'd be better off without those dreams about tomorrow Chance is often kinder than you think
Or you could see out the evening's offer Just give into your urge to turn and run You could take your advice from a vicar Or marry the man twiceTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
