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Oh the turbines pound |
|
Your plane touches down |
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The captain catches your eye |
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And all the city crows |
|
Perched high and low |
|
On wires watch you walk by |
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Oh your hair has changed |
|
Your room's rearranged |
|
Someone's been sleeping inside |
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And the curtains closed |
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On all your windows |
|
To block out the fried chicken sign |
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Roll on Arte, roll on |
|
Oh your heart is too good for this town |
|
Your eyes cast through the glass |
|
At my so sorry manniquin frown |
|
The porter sings |
|
As he begins |
|
To clean up the mess that we've made |
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And the christmas trees |
|
Are cast on the street |
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And garbage trucks block Hooper lane |
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Well my head is in pain |
|
But I can't complain |
|
Cause my sweetheart waits down the line |
|
And I will be |
|
In a house by the sea |
|
Or even if just in my mind |
|
Roll on Arte, roll on |
|
Oh your heart is too good for this town |
|
Your eyes cast through the glass |
|
At my sorry American frown |
|
Oh my mouth aint fed |
|
My lips ain't cherry red |
|
And my grin might show my bad teeth |
|
And all the people I pass |
|
Give me a glance |
|
As if I'm some lower class freak |
|
But to you I'm fine |
|
And I'm in your mind |
|
Even if I'm not around |
|
In my arms I am strong |
|
And thats where you belong |
|
Give em the love that we've found |
|
Roll on Arte, roll on |
|
Oh your heart is too good for this town |
|
My eyes cast through the glass |
|
At your so sorry Marylyn frown |
|
At your so sorry Marylyn frown |
