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Oh, he says I'd like to turn myself, |
|
as he stares into the windowpane, |
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And if only I could be myself, |
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but I'm sure you'd do the same to me. |
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I was only a guest that she wanted, |
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it was more than that that he flaunted. |
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It's away, to you, |
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Away, to you. |
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So I pleaded, she needed to be herself, |
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and he dipped into his wishing well. |
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At any moment, any moment the sounds of the midnight train, |
|
will be the mating call of his whippoorwill. |
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Should he wait 'cause his father drinks too much |
|
had his paint thinner laced with his sleeping pills. |
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He'll find a way, to you, |
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Away, to you. |
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So he dreamed away. |
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Away. |
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From these small streets, |
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and to where they lead, |
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and the holes that bleed, |
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from where he beats me, |
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cause of these stained sheets, |
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lets dream away. |
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And from my small tower, |
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every hour, seemed to take the day, |
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and so she dreamed away. |
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Oh, baby don't you that you're good enough? |
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Baby, don't you think that you're bright enough? |
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Baby, don't you think that you're good enough? |
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Baby, don't you think that you're good enough? |
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Don't you think that you think that you're good enough, for you? |
