She’s not the type of host. That wants to let you in for tea and toast. Say “make yourself at home”. Well she just seems to frown. Said “if your’re after trouble, I’d head two doors down”. Cos they just make a racket.
They’re all dressing up. And laughing from the window with the boys. Who’ve had enough. Said he’d walk down to shops and back. To prove his love. She shouted down could you buy us a pack. When you go? Oh maybe.
But a life under lampposts can’t be a pretty one. You were sitting in the city with your shoes undone. And you said if he spoke to you nicer. Maybe not through your limousine driver.
And though he’s had too much. He still can’t find it in him to let go of her as such. And you know it’s a shame to watch him try. He’s crying out his eyes, oh but he’s too far gone, hang on.
But a life under lampposts can’t be a pretty one. You were sitting in the city with your shoes undone. And you said if he spoke to you nicer. Maybe not through your limousine driver.