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Since I was a girl, I've been good at embroidery |
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I finished up my finishing school in Switzerland |
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Then I escaped to Evian, wound my car down the alps, lived only on apricots |
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Picked by the side of the road |
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In vevey I lived with two spinsters who spoke only french |
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But mostly bickered |
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They fed me strawberry wine |
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I sat in my room writing you lines on doilies |
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They all said the same thing |
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I wish you were here |
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The lights on Lake Geneva are a sight for sore eyes |
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They turn the water into glass |
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I could step on it and be in Lausanne |
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Then I'd be just miles from you, maybe I'd see you in line at the shooting booths |
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Maybe you'd buy me an ice cream cone |
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But if you look you'll see my initials stitched inside your left breast pocket |
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The one you keep your handkerchief in |
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The one closest to you heart |
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Since I was a girl I've been good at embroidery |
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Since I was a girl I've been good at embroidery |
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But no needlepoint will bring you |
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Across this continental divide |
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Across the Atlantic ocean to where I am now |
