I thought we'd escape I packed a fishing line and counted on it I thought we'd escape I packed a fishing line and counted on it
But dreaming is for moonrise And moonrise ails these tired eyes
I treat him like a lady I treat him as I would he unto me Give rose rose-seller a run for her money With silicone and poetry But it's the end of me
I thought it could change I'd wake up one morning and find nothing to rearrange I couldn't get there Behind his wall of Sunday papers I thought it could change I'd wake up one morning and find nothing to rearrange
But dreaming is for moonrise And moonrise ails these tired eyes
I treat him like a lady I treat him as I would he unto me Give rose rose-seller a run for her money With silicone and poetry And it's the end of me
Here I am Here I am And here I stand Here in my kitchen where I'm familiar with every brand
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