Think of you with pipe and slippers. Think of her in bed. Laying there just watching telly. Then think of me instead. I'll never grow so old and flabby. That could never be. Don't marry her, have me. And your love light shines like carboard. But your work shoes are glistening. She's a PhD in "I told you so". You've a knighthood in "I'm not listening". She'll grab your Sandra Bullocks. Then slowly raise her knee. Don't marry her, have me. And the Sunday sun shines down on San Fransisco Bay. And you realise you can't make it anyway. You have to wash the car. Take the kiddies to the park. Don't marry her, have me. Those lovely Sunday mornings. With breakfast brought in bed. Those blackbirds look like knitting needles. Trying to peck your head. Those birds will peck your soul out. And throw away the key. Don't marry her, have me. And the kitchens always tidy. And the bathrooms always clean. She's a diploma in "just hiding things". You've a first in "low esteem". When your socks smell of angels. But your life smells of Brie. Don't marry her, have me. And the Sunday sun shines down on San Fransisco Bay. And you realise you can't make it anyway. You have to wash the car. Take the kiddies to the park. Don't marry her, have me. And the Sunday sun shines down on San Fransisco Bay. And you realise you can't make it anyway. You have to wash the car. Take the kiddies to the park
Don't marry her, have me. |
