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In the summer and her pinafore |
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She thought she'd love for ever more |
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How soon things sour |
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Past the bewitching hour she finds |
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Herself in Winter deep inside her coat |
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The past is just an anecdote |
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She can't forget for it's her alphabet of time |
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Will there be a war |
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Will she die or will she know |
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And find the pain of youth still shows? |
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Like Mary Tyler-Moore |
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She stares across the yawning tide |
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Out of love and terrified |
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In the Sunday colour magazine |
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She reads a line and then she dreams |
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Of what she'll do |
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When she leaves you again |
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She knows that home was once a wild unknown |
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As always her own chaperone |
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Catch the bus from wilderness or to |
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Hold on tight, catch that bus |
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Fares please, ding ding ding |
