Every morning he got up Dreading each moment he had to be awake He'd look at the floor, scribble on gum wrappers He never found a better way to joke around
The clock would tick and time would slow There wasn't anywhere he wouldn't go To avoid having to see anyone He'd sit in a chair and lean against a wall But that didnt seem to matter much at all
But late at night he had a saviour In his sleep, in his dreams She came to him and she said "poor you, poor you No one understands you Poor you, poor you"
And every word that everyone would say Got mumbled up in his head Like mumble-jumble and everywhere he went It seemed like everyone was saying to him, "Blah blah blah"
But late at night, he had a mistress In his dreams, in his sleep And she would say "poor you, poor you" No one understands you poor you"
This story, though, not well told Is not that old It's not that funny, it's not that great But I know it to be true
Because late at night, I have an angel In my dreams, in my sleep And as she runs her fingers through my hair As I lay on her lap And she says, "poor you, poor you No one understands you, poor you poor you"Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
