Pale Bulb
My thoughts and I are not on speaking terms
We walk the coddled streets of Temple Bar
The sun's a pale bulb, yellow on black
Last night I thought of you
Lying on my back
I swear my passion's Dublin by the hour
As our email romance flowers
Flocks of postcards fly these friendly skies
I flick you some knickers from this emerald Isle
The sun's a pale bulb
The sun's a pale bulb
The sun's a pale bulb
Compared to you
So now my boots can slide on these slick stones
I send you a tape from my dictaphone
I keep seeing these amazing things
I wish I could show to you
I miss you so much I just don't know what to do.
We walk the coddled streets of Temple Bar
The sun's a pale bulb, yellow on black
Last night I thought of you
Lying on my back
I swear my passion's Dublin by the hour
As our email romance flowers
Flocks of postcards fly these friendly skies
I flick you some knickers from this emerald Isle
The sun's a pale bulb
The sun's a pale bulb
The sun's a pale bulb
Compared to you
So now my boots can slide on these slick stones
I send you a tape from my dictaphone
I keep seeing these amazing things
I wish I could show to you
I miss you so much I just don't know what to do.
|
© Copyright Otis Mace |