| [00:25.47] |
Sobriety breeds sincerity |
| [00:31.55] |
And Lydia Pond she is my gravity |
| [00:36.89] |
I don't know how she felt when she took that E |
| [00:43.12] |
But in the morning she was shaking, she was twitching, she was jerking |
| [00:50.19] |
On June the 5th she moved to Paris |
| [00:55.31] |
She could not stand the state of British politics |
| [01:01.55] |
And I just can't convince her that I'm socialist |
| [01:08.48] |
And every night I pray for mail in the morning |
| [01:14.89][02:30.35][02:54.25] |
Sweet Lydia Pond is doing it for me |
| [01:20.71][02:36.56][02:59.96] |
And I want to sing a hymn for the postal service |
| [01:26.91][02:42.51][03:06.18] |
Sinful and proud since I stopped sleeping around |
| [01:32.73][02:48.16][03:11.76] |
I am so faithful now to Lydia's handwriting |
| [01:38.70][03:17.66] |
That makes me guess the circumstances under which she wrote it |
| [01:45.07][03:24.03] |
Why she used the f-word when she never, ever spoke it |
| [01:51.03][03:30.40] |
She pasted on a passport photo of herself in pigtails |
| [01:57.09][03:36.59] |
And underneath she'd written did my touch make you less lonely |
| [02:05.61] |
Oh she promised me that we'd be creasing sheets |
| [02:11.67] |
And that our bodies would be bruising, wrestling underneath |
| [02:17.58] |
And I wanted to ask her how she cut her teeth |
| [02:24.39] |
And why she let time slip through her skinny, skinny fingers |
