|
Calm those vowels down |
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No-one's thinking of you right now. |
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She's dressed up - It's her duty to the town. |
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It's empty. It's vast. |
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But it imposes it's will. |
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In a crowded room |
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Her painted features smothered in the gloom - |
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Already resigned |
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At night she scrapes |
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Away the face that she creates |
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The mirror sighs... |
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Why can't we always meet |
|
Under a cloud of mystery? |
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The noise from a hundred mouths |
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Working through memory |
|
Big budget, Showbiz exit - |
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She'll go far. |
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Acting coy was her favourite ploy |
|
It quickly loses its charm. |
|
The frosted cheek you turned |
|
Will add to your mystique |
|
He burns for you. |
|
I threw myself into your world |
|
Only to come up short... |
|
Why can't we always meet |
|
Under a cloud of mystery? |
|
The noise from a hundred mouths |
|
Working through memory |
|
King for a Thursday afternoon |
|
Before the time when you withdrew |
|
Why can't we always meet |
|
Under a cloud of mystery? |
|
Bathroom lights stud the evening |
|
Where the buildings skim the air |
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Hairsprayed curls push the cheek |
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As they swoon on a wooden dance floor |
|
There's nothing worse than taking a chance |
|
On an outdated dance... |
|
Why can't we always meet |
|
Under a cloud of mystery? |
|
The noise from a hundred mouths |
|
Cursing through memory |
|
King for a Thursday afternoon |
|
Before the time when you withdrew |
|
Why can't we always meet |
|
Under a cloud of mystery? |
