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Soon our fortunes will be made, my darling |
|
And we will leave this loathsome little town |
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Silver bells jingling from your black lizard boots, my baby |
|
Silver foil to trim your wedding gown |
|
It's true the tools of love wear down |
|
Time passes |
|
A mid wanders |
|
It seems mindless, but it does |
|
Sometimes I see you face |
|
As if through reading glasses |
|
And your smile seems softer than it was |
|
Proof |
|
Some people gonna call you up |
|
Tell you something that you already know |
|
Proof |
|
Sane people go crazy on you |
|
Say ''No man, that was not |
|
The deal we made |
|
I got to go, I got to go'' |
|
Faith |
|
Faith is an island in the setting sun |
|
But proof, yes |
|
Proof is the bottom line for everyone |
|
My face, my race |
|
Don't matter anymore |
|
My sex, my cheques |
|
Accepted at the door |
|
Proof |
|
Some people gonna call you up |
|
Tell you something that you already know |
|
Proof |
|
Sane people go crazy on you |
|
Say ''No man, that was not |
|
The deal we made |
|
I got to, I got to go'' |
|
Faith |
|
Faith is an island in the setting sun |
|
But proof, yes |
|
Proof is the bottom line for everyone |
|
Half moon hiding in the clouds, my darling |
|
And the sky is flecked with signs of hope |
|
Raise your weary wings against the rain, my baby |
|
Wash your tangled curls with gambler's soap |
|
Proof |
|
Some people gonna call you up |
|
Tell you something that you already know |
|
Sane people go crazy on you |
|
Say ''No man, that was not |
|
The deal we made |
|
I got to, I got to, I got to'' |
|
Faith |
|
Faith is an island in the setting sun |
|
But proof, yes |
|
Proof is the bottom line for everyone |
