Dear Allan I hear you made the trip Was it a gash or a cut Or maybe just a prick For all the money in the world For all the girls and all the fame It's enough to make you sick
Oh, Dear Allan I hear you lose yourself on a whim I hear that when you write You don't know how or where the words come from You just feel it from within
And dear Allan I hope you're really ready for I hope you're really ready for I hope you're really ready for Ready for the love, for the hate For the death that doesn't wait And for your soul, for them to take I hope you're ready for (Well, I drink spirits to the ghost in the room)
Dear Allan Oh, my sweet Allan (I like the steady rainfall, black and white) (Cruella de Vil, Cruella de Vil Cruella de Vil, Cruella de)
