|
Now when your mother sends back all your invitations |
|
And your father to your sister he explains |
|
That you're tired of yourself and all of your creations |
|
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane? |
|
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane? |
|
Now the flower lady wants back what she has have lent you |
|
And the smell of her roses does not remain |
|
When all your children start to resent you |
|
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane? |
|
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane? |
|
Now when all the clowns that you have commissioned |
|
Have all died in battle or in vain |
|
And you find yourself sick of all this repetition |
|
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane? |
|
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane? |
|
Now when all of your advisers heave their plastic |
|
At your feet to convince you of your pain |
|
Trying to prove that your conclusions should be more drastic |
|
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane? |
|
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane? |
|
Now when all the bandits that you turned your other cheek to |
|
All throw down their bandannas and complain |
|
Maybe you want somebody you don't have to speak to |
|
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane? |
|
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane? |
