You'll see her face, a glimpse of lace And you'll go running through the last sweet dying day dreams Calling her name but she's been home an hour Laughing at the mirror and she combs her paper hair
And later in the day, you will be searching for a way To let her know you're ready for her little game to end 'cause it's getting dark and then
You'll see her face, a glimpse of lace And you'll go running through the last sweet dying day dreams Calling her name but she's been home an hour Laughing at the mirror and she combs her paper hair
