|
(McKinley) |
|
He froze the air with his funny stare, |
|
she felt the hair raise on her bare arms. |
|
He said, "It's not lost on me the irony, the waste we are." |
|
He took her wrists, pulled her down to sit next to him. |
|
He said, "Let me tell you a story since it's all I can do. |
|
There are so many like this that it's almost hard to choose. |
|
You know the ones already about the plucky, silly girls |
|
that make the best out of life, |
|
look fetching in a flour-sack dress behind |
|
a good man, a good man and this is where the story falls apart. |
|
"You're not plucky or silly and I don't have an especially warm heart." |
|
She put her hand over his mouth, said, "What the hell are you talking about?" |
|
I know those girls that make the best out of life |
|
look fetching in an hour-glass dress. |
|
They're lonely for a boy like you to talk to. |
|
I've been so lonely for a boy like you to talk to. |
|
If you'd stop playing Citizen Kane |
|
Then we can turn these cameras off and start again. |
|
I'm not some silly girl that makes the best out of life |
|
looks fetching in a flour-sack dress behind |
|
a good man, a good man, a good man. |
|
He said, "It's not lost on me, the irony." |
