It's not the clothes that she borrows
just call me out - cause you know I'll follow
Back through the backdoor into June
Luck will sleep the October June

Sometimes in deep thought I'm 31
she's wanting kids
it sounds like fun,
I'll teach them to sing along
sure beats the end of a smoking gun

And I know that god exists
because I feel him sometimes
when she takes up the sheets
or my telephone lines, but
when I'm home she says:
baby you're a lie...
You're not really here. You've gone away...

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