My Old Flame ( the one that never leaves me)
I ramble and amble to the new town
To loose my money at the bank
and wait to get a real haircut
Breaking upstairs for no other reason
doing my best with some slippery fiche
but the history is too old to be mine
I tell myself that my heart has had enough
and pay $1.75 to take the circular weave
still walking a half mile to......home?
Pulled to swing and drive always south
my island rehearsal and a cup of Nestico
early to see the beautiful lillies
My old flame...how many times
have I tried to put you down?
every week in my hands even now
You speak with my voice
you say what I think
Won't you sing to me with a new and unfamilliar tone, and bring my smile home where it belongs.
To loose my money at the bank
and wait to get a real haircut
Breaking upstairs for no other reason
doing my best with some slippery fiche
but the history is too old to be mine
I tell myself that my heart has had enough
and pay $1.75 to take the circular weave
still walking a half mile to......home?
Pulled to swing and drive always south
my island rehearsal and a cup of Nestico
early to see the beautiful lillies
My old flame...how many times
have I tried to put you down?
every week in my hands even now
You speak with my voice
you say what I think
Won't you sing to me with a new and unfamilliar tone, and bring my smile home where it belongs.
posted by Armand @ 11:01 PM
1 Comments:
At 4:21 PM,
Anonymous said…
when it comes to old flames I turn to the poets--
Dylan: I wish that for just one time you could stand inside my shoes/ You'd know what a drag it is to see you.
Costello: I said "I'm so happy I could die"/ She said "drop dead" and left with another guy.
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