Tytuł: Play

• Wykonawca: Theatre Of Tragedy
• Wyświetleń: 294

She fills the rich kitsch niche where she sits
   Making chit-chat, this and that, from the bits
   Consumed, perfumed, detracts the room despite
   Glowing, knowing she can head for the limelight
   She's too rich for her men
   She won't stay, what a shame
   A shame She won't fit in his world
   She exists for the game
   A shame Tricky repertoire
   Words flying 'round
   Picky seminar
   Bound to be drowned in the sound
   Sticky shirt and tie
   Play 'Bottoms Up' in the bar
   Icky, fly guy - why,
   She's nastier by far
   It's appeasing how she wanna flaunt her fur
   His mind's but a blur
   He's derailing from his train of thought
   Doing not what he ought and was taught
   He's trying to flick quick, but she waged the pages stick
   Someone must have gone click, click, click, click
   Can't see what's new, he doesn't have a clue
   Of what to do with the woman he thought that he knew
   She's too rich for her men
   She won't stay, what a shame
   A shame She won't fit in his world
   She exists for the game A shame.