Well, well isn't this sweet Everyones playing house I'm not meaning to mock Or trespass On this pretty plain picture-perfect scene
This is delicious How could I be so rude? I'd never be malicious Or dare even to intrude
But its coming to pass Can you believe your eyes? Are you living with love? Are you just living with a lie (lie, lie, lie, lie) ? Lies
I know that you want me Scatter those dishes Give into your wishes You've seen it all I know that you do You've pictured this With the light pouring in Glistening With the covers pulled back And my clothes torn away from my skin
Well, well, isn't this tart Just like my bitter heart So let's end if you don't Have the courage to begin with
Do you want to slap me? Until I can say what for Do you want to kiss me? Just one and then no more
You play the family man In the sad aftermath Fingers for peeking right through Just like Daddies do
Now my scent is on your breath Im going to make you a mess He pressed the glass to my lips "I'm going to make you" I'm going to make you I'm going to make you a mess
Compositores: Burt F Bacharach (Burt Bacharach) (ASCAP), Declan Patrick Aloysius Mac-manus (Elvis Costello) (ASCAP)Editor: BMG Rights Management (PRS)ECAD verificado obra #33699064 em 07/Abr/2024